


Corporate Fat Cat

by Akranes



Series: Corporate Fat Cat Verse [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Shiro, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Feeding, M/M, Marijuana, POV Switches, Power Dynamics, Rated mostly for a scene in chapter 2, Recreational Drug Use, Size Kink, Stoner Keith (Voltron), Stuffing, Twink Keith, Weight Gain, Weight Gain Kink, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-08-23 17:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akranes/pseuds/Akranes
Summary: Shiro and Keith's relationship has always been great. Shiro's given him love and stability that Keith never dreamed he'd have.But when Shiro gets a promotion that leads to him attending lots of corporate dinners and putting on some weight, it has the potential to get that much better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's lots of moving parts to this one, so **PLEASE READ THE TAGS.** Most important and prevalent are the weight gain kink elements, but don't say I didn't warn you about the rest, too.
> 
> This has been a WIP for quite a while. I also realize that maybe I'm projecting a little bit, because Keith has, like, the exact life I want in this fic. So.
> 
> Unbeta'd because none of my friends have any idea I write this sort of _trash_ so please forgive any mistakes you find.
> 
> I also have yet another my hero academia fic to post, but I wanted to get this up first, lest I have too many fics from one fandom in a row. I like to be a little more varied :3

Keith felt Shiro’s belly bump into him from behind, fitting pleasantly into the small of his back. The faint smell from his cologne greeted Keith too, a smell that was manly and woodsy and so very _Shiro_.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Keith’s head and wrapped his thick, muscular arms around Keith’s shoulders. It hindered his movement a little, but that was part of what made the familiar embrace so comforting.

The somewhat new feeling of Shiro’s belly was just an added bonus.

Keith put his toothbrush and toothpaste down on the counter to lean into Shiro’s embrace for a moment. He had only gotten home a few minutes before Shiro himself, and immediately changed into pajamas, then coming into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He had been at school for most of the day, then at a friend’s place for a late night study session.

Shiro, on the other hand, had a fancy corporate dinner this evening, and had planned to be out late, because there seemed to be nothing executives liked more than getting drunk and avoiding their wives.

The thought made Keith smirk as Shiro leaned in to kiss his cheek. Keith caught a whiff of whisky intertwined with the cologne, and his smirk broadened.

“Are you drunk?” Keith asked, smiling mischievously at Shiro through the mirror.

Everything about his body language said yes, but Shiro was always pretty sharp, even when a little intoxicated. He returned Keith’s grin with a small smile. He leaned so his face was in the crook of Keith’s neck and breathed deeply.

“Are you high?” He countered, returning Keith’s mischievous smile for all its worth.

Keith’s grin turned guilty. So maybe his study session had ended with a little smoking session.

“Not anymore,” Keith said, which was mostly true. His head was maybe still a _little_ swimy, and he still felt a little lethargic, but that could’ve just been because it was nearly 2 am.

“Hm,” Shiro hummed, and then stifled an uncharacteristic bubbly giggle, “I’m still drunk.”

“I can tell,” Keith said, squirming and turning around in Shiro’s embrace so they were facing each other. This seemed to suit Shiro just fine, and his face split into that big, painfully bright smile that he got sometimes when he was feeling unequivocally happy.

Keith couldn’t help but grin back, lifting his arms and looping them around Shiro’s neck. Shiro took that as an invitation to crowd Keith, pushing him against the bathroom counter so their torsos were flush. Keith couldn’t help but notice that this position used to get their faces closer together than now, since Shiro’s new gut bumped into Keith’s flat torso. He fought back a shiver. Shiro wasn’t always so brazen and uncaring about his new weight; a sure sign that he was definitely feeling good.

He was still in a suit and tie, and Keith was treated to Shiro’s belly bulging obscenely over the waistband of his pants. His little belly was almost perfectly round, stuffed full of food and drinks. Keith couldn’t help himself, and lowered an arm to caress the swollen flesh.

Shiro hardly seemed to notice, and he swooped in to capture Keith’s lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Keith tasted the whiskey from Shiro’s mouth, but it was easy to enjoy the kiss either way. Kissing Shiro just always felt different from anyone else he had kissed. He had realized that from the first time Shiro kissed him. Shiro’s kisses were loving, understanding, and somehow _knowing_. It always felt like he had Keith completely figured out just by pressing their lips together.

But they hadn’t kissed right away. They had met, of all places, a job fair at Keith’s college. As an art student, Keith would’ve never made his way to the Wayford & Sons booth that Shiro was stationed at for most of the event. But Keith had a keen eye for heartthrobs, so he had seen Shiro’s towering figure from far away, charming young students with his gorgeous smile, broad shoulders and impressive height. Even in his posh business suit, Keith could tell this guy was seriously built. He felt his heart rate quicken.

Keith let himself drift a little closer to the booth. He had done this song and dance quite a few times, just usually at a bar or nightclub. Never at his school’s gymnasium, at the goddamn job fair. He had a brief pang of doubt that he washed away immediately by stealing another glance. The man had a few tufts of gray around his temples, and it was so fucking hot.

He’d be damned if he didn’t at least _try_ to climb that guy like a tree.

Keith found himself at a booth for an environmental group that was near the man’s booth, and idly paid attention to what the girl with dreadlocks was telling him. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw the guy glance at him. Keith stretched his arms over his head, knowing the way it would ride up just enough to reveal his sharp hip bones. He leaned languidly against the booth and pushed his jaw length hair back with his hand. Schooling his face into a completely neutral expression, he glanced back at the man.

He was unabashedly _staring_ back at Keith.

Keith felt his cheeks redden and his heart rate quicken in anticipation. And then the man offered a small smile. Keith looked away.

What the hell did that mean? That wasn’t a flirtatious smile. He probably had no idea what Keith was going for. He was probably straight as hell, with a wife and kid at home.

A few beats later, Keith hazarded another look in his direction, and _oh_.

The man was still looking at Keith, and very obviously checking out his ass. He looked back up at Keith’s face and almost looked embarrassed to have gotten caught, as if Keith wasn’t peacocking here for literally exactly that.

_This guy is weird_, Keith thought to himself. _But that doesn’t make him any less hot_. Keith inclined his head in a subtle ‘follow me’ gesture. The woman who’s booth he was at stopped mid-sentence as Keith departed, but he hadn’t really been listening in the first place. He supposed that was rude, but whatever. He had more important things to attend to.

Keith didn’t look behind him as he made his way to the most isolated bathroom he knew of in the building. Either the man would follow or he wouldn’t. Keith would find out soon enough.

It didn’t take long for the man to slowly walk into the bathroom, eyes landing where Keith stood, leaned against the sinks.

“Hey,” the man said pleasantly, a friendly smile on his face.

Keith fought the urge to roll his eyes, and curiously also had to fight a smile that was threatening to emerge on his own mouth.

“Hey yourself,” Keith said. The man had stepped close enough that Keith could just barely reach out and grab him by his suit lapels, so he did. He roughly pulled the man closer until their chests were flush.

The man’s grin turned wicked, and the sight alone sent a jolt through Keith. Holy hell this guy was hot. Even hotter up close. Keith boldly palmed the man’s crotch, pleased when the man gasped, surprised, and wrapped a large hand behind Keith’s neck, fingers intertwining through his hair, pulling just enough. Keith felt his heart rate quicken at that display of dominance, so, encouraged, Keith began undoing the man’s belt.

“I’m Shiro,” he said, and Keith winced. Ugh, names? Really? Did this guy not understand what this was?

“No names, huh?” Shiro said, reading Keith’s expression perfectly. He swiped a thumb over the back of Keith’s neck.

Keith didn’t say anything, carelessly tossing what felt like a very expensive leather belt on the sink next to them, and beginning to undo Shiro’s pants.

“You don’t have to tell me yours, of course, but I would _like_ to know, if you’re willing.”

What was with this guy? Keith couldn’t pinpoint why this guy was making him feel so vulnerable all the sudden. It wasn’t really a feeling he was enjoying, so he snapped, “Do you ask the names of all the students you fuck at job fairs?”

Shiro frowned, looking guilty. “This is...really inappropriate, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t…” he said, beginning to step away.

“Keith!” he blurted, cheeks flushing at how needy he sounded, but dammit, he had gotten Shiro this far, he was already hard, and he’d never forgive himself if he blew this now. He grabbed one of Shiro’s biceps, trying to hold the man in place. He realized that he’d have no chance of doing that if Shiro really wanted to leave, the man was built like a moose, and Keith’s spindly fingers were no more of an inconvenience than a light breeze. The thought only excited him more.

But Shiro stood still as Keith said, more calmly, “My name is Keith.”

Shiro looked pleased, and paused like he was going to say something, but Keith couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted, “Now are you gonna let me suck your dick, or what?”

Shiro quirked an eyebrow and said, “Well, certainly a young man like yourself is capable of a little more than that.”

Keith grinned. Now _that_ was something he could work with.

It turned out that Shiro was definitely well endowed, which wasn’t really a surprise considering his size in every other regard. Shiro luckily had condoms in his wallet, but neither of them had lube, as neither of them exactly expected to get laid at the job fair.

When Keith pulled out a mini tub of vaseline from his backpack, Shiro laughed out loud, a deep, rich sound that filled Keith’s heart with unexplainable joy that he tried to quell immediately.

Keith tossed it at him with feigned malice, unable to keep from laughing as well, “It’s for my lips, okay? I use it for chapstick, but it should work for...this.”

After Shiro plowed him (there really wasn’t a better word for it considering how rough and dirty it was) in the handicapped stall and they did a haphazard cleanup, Keith had gotten his pants back on, and couldn’t help wobbling pitifully. Jesus, he was sore. The walk back to his dorm was gonna suck.

Shiro winced visibly as he was rightening his suit jacket, “Hey, I’m sorry, Keith. Are you okay?”

Keith shrugged apathetically, “Gonna have to be,” he said, tossing his backpack over his shoulder and heading for the door.

“Hey, wait a second!” Shiro said, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“What?”

“So...we’ll probably never see each other again, huh?”

“Probably not,” Keith agreed, confused, “You...really don’t do this a lot, do you?”

Shiro frowned, “No, not really. Maybe...I can take you to dinner sometime?”

Keith was floored, “You’re asking me out?”

“I am, yeah.”

“I think I’m good,” Keith said, hating himself for every word, but this guy was honestly intimidating as fuck. By being so _nice_. And perceptive, fuck, Keith felt like Shiro had him figured out just by fucking him for like ten minutes in the bathroom. It made Keith feel vulnerable. Keith had had sex with plenty of big, older guys who were plenty happy to give and receive with Keith, then never speak again. Why was this guy so different?

Why did he want more than sex from Keith?

Keith tried not to notice the way Shiro’s face fell as he rummaged around one of his pockets before pulling out a business card with a bashful look.

“My cells on here, if you change your mind...you can call or text, whatever,” Shiro said.

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said dismissively as he gimped out of the bathroom.

He planned to just toss the card in the garbage. Forget about the man who was not only everything Keith could ever want physically, but also maybe wanted him for more than just sex.

But he didn’t throw the card away. Something in him just couldn’t. Keith couldn’t explain it other than saying he just _couldn’t_. He texted Shiro that evening. And they went out the very next day. And on that day, Keith had gotten his first kiss from Shiro, and had been hopelessly in love since.

Keith smiled into Shiro’s kiss as he recounted the memory. God, had he really acted like such a brat? He supposed so. That was over three years ago now. He couldn’t help but be grateful to Shiro for putting up with him. He’d grown a lot, he’d admit, and he owed a lot of it to Shiro.

Shiro pulled back when Keith started giggling, “What’s so funny?” he said with a smile.

“I’m just thinking about how we met.”

“Ah,” Shiro said, grinning, “I like to think about it sometimes, too.”

Keith hummed agreeably, “You’re too important now to man a job fair booth at some random college.” Shiro had gotten a few promotions at his job since then, and a major once recently, leading to where he was now, a partner at his firm.

Shiro laughed, “And you’re too committed to go around seducing attractive older men at said job fairs.”

“You’re right. Who would’ve thought?” Keith said, laughing.

“Certainly not you, that day.”

“No, definitely not. I would’ve laughed in your face.”

“You practically did.”

Keith snorted a laugh and pulled out of Shiro’s embrace, making Shiro whine in protest. “Come on, we’ve got to get ready for bed.”

“What? Nooooo,” Shiro said, pouting when Keith handed him his toothbrush.

“You’re too drunk for sex,” Keith said simply.

“I can consent,” Shiro protested.

Keith didn’t disagree really, Shiro probably wasn’t _that_ drunk, but still he teased, “You’re _pouting_. You don’t pout.”

“No, that _is_ usually more your thing,” Shiro smirked, before more forcefully taking Keith by the waist and whipping him around and smashing their lips together.

Keith’s dick sprang in interest. Shiro alternated between being adorably gentle and deliciously rough when it came to sex and all things therein, but usually when there was any alcohol involved he leaned towards rough.

But what really interested Keith’s dick, was how fucking _plump_ Shiro’s gut felt, now that Keith’s fingers had involuntarily returned to Shiro’s waist. Sober, he usually stopped Keith’s hands from lingering there, so it wasn’t often that Keith got to feel just how round Shiro was getting. He was surprised at how soft the rest of his tummy still was, despite how it was also firm at the top, where he was stuffed full of endless expensive dishes and drinks.

Keith understood why Shiro was a little self-conscious, he really did. Ex-military turned uber successful businessman, there was a lot of pressure on him to look a certain way. Keith had seen enough old pictures of Shiro to understand that Shiro had _never_ been physically soft. This was brand new for him, and he didn’t seem completely sure what to do.

Keith had expressed to Shiro before that he had a bit of a size kink, and looking back, he regretted not explaining it better. He had basically just said as long as a guy was significantly bigger than him, he thought that was super hot. Shiro had about five, maybe six inches on him, and probably around 50 pounds on him (certainly more now, and not just muscle anymore either), so he obviously fit the bill. But Keith was concerned that Shiro thought _he_ was displeased by his weight gain. Maybe Keith didn’t explain well enough that yeah, he had been with muscle heads before, but he had also been with _fat_ guys before.

He had tried to broach the subject, only to have Shiro squirm his way out of the conversation, or change the subject immediately. Keith figured he was probably supposed to respect that, right? 

Keith’s hands slid to Shiro’s clothed sides, where pockets of chub had taken up residence, pushing insistently over his waistband, adding to Shiro’s girth. He had genuine love handles, and Keith gave them a good squeeze. Shit, Shiro was so hot like this. Well, Shiro was always hot.

This was just...new. Different.

Keith hadn’t thought he had a _thing_ for weight gain specifically, but Shiro was proving him a liar, because every pound he added just made it harder and harder for Keith to avoid his pudgy areas.

Keith waited for Shiro to twist in his grasp or try to direct Keith’s hands elsewhere, but he didn’t. Keith couldn’t help but take advantage, hands roaming all over Shiro’s clothed middle. But it was bittersweet, leaving a guilty taste in Keith’s mouth.

Eventually, Shiro pulled away with a tired but loving smile.

“What if we just cuddle for a little?” he proposed.

Actually, Keith had kinda changed sides, now. All he could imagine was riding Shiro while actually being _allowed_ to feel all of him. But if Shiro was dazed enough that he didn’t mind Keith groping him like that, when he usually _did_ sober, it was a sign that even if he seemed pretty coherent, sex probably wasn’t a good idea. It would feel like a betrayal of Shiro’s trust.

“That sounds nice,” Keith agreed.

They finished getting ready for bed, and Keith didn’t even try to hide that he was watching Shiro change. He had shrugged out of his suit jacket, leaving him in an increasingly snug white button up that clung to the curve of his belly and the weight at his sides. His gray slacks were belted and fastened below his gut, framing just how round and thick it was getting. Keith felt his mouth go dry from where he was already waiting in bed. But Shiro hardly seemed to notice.

Shiro took his belt off first, and undid his pants with a sigh of relief. The zipper undid itself underneath the weight of his gut, forcing the two sides of the pants further apart as his belly settled in the middle, a little lower than when the pants were together. He made quick work of his shirt buttons, discarded his clothes neatly in the hamper, and collapsed into bed in only his boxer briefs.

That was unusual, too. Within the past few months, Shiro had started wearing a shirt to sleep, usually claiming to be chilly whenever Keith questioned it, despite being practically a human furnace.

Shiro pulled Keith into him, intending to spoon him, but Keith turned around so they were facing each other. Shiro didn’t seem to mind either way, humming contentedly and tucking Keith into his notably softer chest, spattered with hair. He began to snore softly, which he usually only did after he had been drinking. Keith felt himself smile affectionately.

Even in the dark, Keith continued to smile to himself, heart full from more skin on skin contact from Shiro than he had gotten in months. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it, and drifted to sleep in perfect comfort.

_

Shiro awoke the next morning with only a mild headache, which he considered to be a success.

The soft morning light streamed through the windows, providing Shiro with enough vision to see Keith’s mop of black hair curled into his chest. A fond smile split onto his face, and he ran a hand through Keith’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Keith hardly even stirred, a notoriously heavy sleeper.

Shiro gently peeled Keith’s spindly arms and legs off himself, and Keith gave no more sound than a disgruntled groan, cuddling the nearest pillow instead.

God help him, was he so cute.

Shiro hardly even realized that he was shirtless until he went into the bathroom. He winced. Fuck, Keith would’ve felt _everything_ with how he had been laying on Shiro. Really, his weight hardly crossed his mind last night. It had been a nice reprieve.

But now, in the harsh bathroom lighting, he couldn’t help but notice it. His abs were completely _gone_, something that had been a part of his body since his early twenties, erased after just a few months of indulgences. In their place was a soft, round belly that looked maybe a bit swollen still from last night. He sighed and pressed his palm into it, annoyed. It sunk in easily, and sprang back when he removed his hand. The large muscles of his arms, legs, and back were still visibly there, just covered and blurred by a layer of softness that was completely unfamiliar.

It wasn’t like he thought Keith was stupid, either. Obviously he had noticed. He had tried to bring it up a few times, too, but Shiro had always stopped him. He just didn’t want to hear what he knew Keith would say, the reassurances that Keith would give him. It would be sweet and all, and he _knew_ that Keith loved him and would never break up with him over something silly like gaining some weight. But all he could think about was how much Keith had _loved_ how Shiro looked when they first met.

The kid could gush for as long as Shiro would let him that he loved his salt and pepper hair, how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, and his _abs_. It was different from how ‘I don’t give a fuck’ Keith usually acted, which just made it more adorable.

But now? His height hadn’t changed, and his strong shoulders were still just as broad, but now they were covered by a layer of flesh that masked a good amount of the definition. His hair was getting more salt than pepper every day. And, of course, his abs were history. He could hardly believe that they had disappeared as quick as they did. He suspected that maybe how quickly his body had accepted extra weight had to do with his age, too.

He _knew_ he was exactly Keith’s type before. He didn’t want to hear Keith say that he still loved him and was still attractive. He knew Keith would mean it, but he was sure that Keith preferred his body before. He didn’t want Keith to pretend like he wanted to touch Shiro’s gut. Despite how he acted sometimes, Keith was an enormous sweetheart, so he _would_, but the thought of Keith having to feign attraction like that just because Shiro couldn’t control his appetite and get his ass back to the gym made him feel nauseous.

But what could he do? He had cut back on gym time after his most recent promotion, nearly six months ago now, because he was having to work more hours. He didn’t mind working more hours, because the ‘work’ usually involved schmoozing with other executives, going out for elaborate breakfasts, or lunches, or dinners, or drinks. But with that taking up more of Shiro’s time, he’d either have to sacrifice time at the gym or time with Keith, so obviously Keith had won that battle.

Shiro glanced in the corner of the bathroom, where the small, tucked away scale mocked him. He had been morbidly tempted for weeks to step on, but he was terrified at what he would see. He was 6’4 and pretty well built, and had hovered around 195 since his military days. He liked to pretend that he had only put on 15 pounds or so, but he knew full well that it was really more like 20.

His clothes had been getting dangerously tight, too. He had been refusing to buy clothes in a larger size, always entertaining the idea that he’d lose the few extra pounds eventually. Every time he’d put his slacks on, they’d just be that little bit tighter. His jeans were faring similarly. All his shirts were getting annoyingly snug, buttons beginning to strain visibly even when he wasn’t sitting.

_Fuck it_, he thought in a moment of forced bravery, and stepped on the scale. The numbers calculated for a moment before settling at 223. Shiro only barely managed to refrain from banging his head against the wall.

That was a lot. More than he had ever weighed, easily. He really, really needed to hit the gym. It was a Saturday, around 8:30 a.m, and Keith wouldn’t be up for maybe two more hours. Shiro had plenty of time to get a run in, and probably still cook breakfast like he usually did on Saturday mornings. His weak hangover headache tried to protest, but Shiro ignored it. No excuses, he was going to find a way to get back on track with his exercise routine starting today.

Shiro quietly changed into his workout gear, wincing at how even his sweatpants felt a bit snug around his waist and hips, and his t-shirt clung to his middle in a way that made him want to cross his arms around his torso, trying to hide his tummy. He tried to subdue his insecurities by thinking of them as just something else to use as motivation.

He crept out of the apartment still feeling insecure, but also determined.

_

Keith awoke to the smell of waffles and a smile on his face.

He went to the bathroom before heading out to see Shiro and what was cooking, and he saw Shiro’s gym shoes out of the closet, and some of his workout clothes in the hamper. He felt an annoying pang of sadness at the idea of Shiro losing the weight he had put on. But maybe it was for the best. If Shiro felt better about himself, maybe he’d finally start being open with Keith again.

Keith walked into the kitchen, initially not bothering to put anything over his boxers, but electing to throw on a big t-shirt of Shiro’s. He loved the way they swallowed him; hanging down to almost his knees and smelling of Shiro.

Shiro was pulling a waffle out of the griddle, and gave Keith a warm smile. He looked a little pale.

“Good morning, baby,” he said, pulling Keith to him to kiss the top of his head.

Keith smiled sleepily in return. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

Shiro smiled bashfully, “Uh, headachy. I drank too much last night.”

“Did working out help? I saw your shoes out.”

“Oh. Um. Not particularly. But I’m fine, I just need...to get back in the groove, is all,” Shiro looked down at what he was doing with a shrug.

“Okay,” Keith acquiesced, part of him hoping that whatever workout attempt Shiro made paid off so they could go back to normal, but a more dastardly side that he was ashamed of hoped Shiro gave that up and kept every pound he had added so far. Maybe even add a few more.

_

“I need advice,” Keith said, flopping next to Allura with a huff.

Keith was still in college at age 23 (almost 24), thanks to being indecisive and switching his major a few times. He didn’t particularly mind, because he lived with Shiro so he was only really on campus for attending classes, and occasional studying with peers. And he wasn’t the only one of his age around, which helped. He and Allura had made study plans in one of the common areas.

Predictably, an eager grin split across her face as she pushed her schoolwork aside, “Oh? Well now I’m excited. What’s going on?”

Keith frowned. He couldn’t believe he was resorting to this, but Allura was by far his best option in terms of advice, and she probably knew the most about his sex life out of all his friends, “It’s...relationship advice.”

Her eyes lit up, “Really? Trouble in paradise with sugar daddy Shiro?”

Keith scowled, “He’s not my sugar daddy,” he said for the umteenth time. Even though, if he was honest, maybe it was a bit true. After all, he didn’t pay a cent towards their rent, and their apartment was certainly luxury. He worked minimal hours at a little local coffee shop, because Shiro told him never to worry about money. Most of what Keith made went towards school; Shiro paid for just about everything else Keith could ever want.

“You know I’m just kidding, Shiro’s a sweetie and everyone loves him. Nothing’s seriously wrong, right? I think I’d stop believing in love if you two broke up,” Allura said, genuine concern coloring her features.

“No, I mean, I guess it’s serious, but not _that_ serious. We’re not in danger of breaking up or anything.”

“So what’s up?” she said, leaning back in her seat and folding her hands across her lap, looking serious.

Keith huffed, “It’s...Shiro’s been having kind of a rough time, like, with body image stuff. He’s put on some weight and he’s been super self-conscious about it. Like, _wears a shirt to bed_, self-conscious.”

Allura pursed her lips, “I did notice he looked a little chunky the last time I saw him. He looks good though, it kinda suits him. Anyways, did you tell him that you still find him attractive, you’re still hopelessly in love with him, he still looks like a god among men, so on and so forth?”

“That’s just it, he does _not_ want to talk about it. Every time I try to bring it up he completely avoids the topic. He started going to the gym again a few weeks ago, but it didn’t last very long and now he’s just sulking.”

Allura frowned, “I’m surprised that he’s hiding from you like that. It’s one thing to be insecure because you don’t like the way you look, but he can’t possibly think that _you_ don’t like the way he looks,” Allura giggled a little and continued, “I mean, you’ve slept with some pretty _big_ guys, and I don’t mean muscles.”

“Ha ha, yes, thanks, I know what kind of big you mean. It’s okay to say fat, Allura. But, uh, I have realized that I may not have been as candid with him about my sexual preferences as I should’ve been,” Keith admitted with a wince.

Allura’s eyes turned confused and she lowered her voice, “You didn’t tell him that you have a size kink?”

“Of course I did! I think I just...may have not explained that it applies to more than just muscle, you know? I wasn’t _purposefully_ being dishonest, but now I don’t know what to do! How do I tell him _now_ that I definitely do not mind some pudge, without it seeming like I’m just saying it to make him feel better? I’ve been trying to respect his boundaries by not bringing it up, but I just can’t take him being so upset anymore!”

Keith hadn’t realized that he had gotten a little loud towards the end of that, and sunk a little further in his seat until some of the looks he was getting dissipated.

Allura only sighed wistfully, “You two are so helplessly gone for each other, it’s the cutest thing. Okay, here’s what you do: you’re gonna have to confront him about it. If it’s impacting your relationship, which it sounds like it is, then it’s your problem, too. Try to be gentle, but you also need to be firm. He needs to talk about it if he’s that upset. Don’t let him change the subject.”

Keith squirmed, “I’m not...good with emotional stuff. I never know the right words to say.”

Allura nodded her agreement, “I know you’re emotionally stunted, but Shiro’s always been a paragon of discussing feelings, so if he’s acting like this, then he needs your help. You can’t just leave him in his own head, thinking you’re unhappy with his body. You know he’d never let you stew over negative emotions like that.”

‘Emotionally stunted’ would’ve hurt if it wasn’t so spot on and spoken without any real judgement. “Okay, okay. You’re right,” Keith said, sighing, “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

_

Shiro rummaged through their cabinets for something to make for dinner. Keith was studying with Allura today, but he’d probably be home soon, and Shiro would ideally like to have dinner started, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really want _anything_ they had.

Shiro had pretty much given up on his attempt to revive his exercise routine, three weeks after the morning he weighed himself. He still went occasionally, but he just didn’t have the time to do it like he used to, and when he got to the gym, he usually found himself sticking with weights and avoiding cardio.

He had tried to compensate by eating better, but a well balanced diet had never really been part of his vocabulary. He liked hearty meals, with lots of meat, cheese, grease, carbs, just about anything caloric. He used to better about limiting his portion sizes, but he was just so damn tired of it.

Keith hadn’t complained about Shiro’s switch to things like salmon and broccoli for dinner, but he was suspicious that Keith disliked it almost as much as Shiro himself.

They had the fixings for chicken fajitas, and that actually sounded pretty good, so Shiro began cutting up some peppers. His mind unhelpfully supplied that this meal would likely contain too much oil and salt. He sighed, feeling crestfallen. He just couldn’t seem to win.

Later, Keith came around right when Shiro was wrapping up dinner. Shiro heard the front door close, some rummaging, then felt Keith’s presence as he wrapped his arms around Shiro from behind, resting his head against Shiro’s back and his hands wrapped right at the crest of Shiro’s belly.

Shiro couldn’t help stiffening and sucking in.

“Smells good,” Keith said idly, beginning to actually _pet_ Shiro’s belly.

Shiro hated himself for the nervous chuckle that bubbled out of his lips as he stepped aside, out of Keith’s grasp, to grab some random spice and put more in the pan.

“Thanks, should be ready soon,” Shiro said, looking over at Keith with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

Maybe not so much, considering how Keith’s brow was furrowed like it was when he wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how.

“Shiro-”

“So how was class today?” Shiro blurted, turning back towards his pan, but not before he saw Keith’s eyes grow worried. _Fuck_.

“Shiro, I-”

“How’s Allura? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, did she-”

“_Shiro_,” Keith said firmly. Shiro felt his mouth go dry.

“Yeah?” he croaked, keeping his back to Keith and stirring the pan needlessly.

Keith sighed behind him, “I...don’t really know how to start this conversation, and I _know_ you don’t want to have it, but I think we need to. Look at me, Shiro, please?”

Shiro took the pan off the heat and tried to keep his hands steady. It was done cooking anyways, Shiro was just stalling at this point. He turned around to face Keith, and crossed his arms over his middle to try and mask the size of it without even fully processing his actions.

“I just- I need you to know that I love how you look. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about your body, I mean I’d _like_ you to obviously, but I just, I want you to stop hiding from me,” Keith said. His brow was furrowed and he looked unsure of himself. Shiro felt his heart clench. There was no point in acting oblivious.

“I...appreciate that, Keith, I really do. But you don’t…” Shiro sighed and looked down, which gave him an unfortunate view of his gut, before continuing, “You don’t have to pretend that you find me as attractive now as you did before.” The words sounded pitiful even to his own ears. A part of him was angry that he sounded so pathetic.

Keith stepped closer and put one hand on Shiro’s arm. Shiro thought Keith was going to make him uncross his arms, reveal his gut, but he didn’t. It seemed like he wanted to touch Shiro there, but thought better of it, so he was touching Shiro as close to his belly as possible without _actually_ touching his belly. His other hand reached out to cup Shiro’s cheek and force him to look back into Keith’s eyes. He did, reluctantly, and the amount of concern in Keith’s eyes made him want to jump into a hole and never come out. He hated being the one to make Keith look so upset.

“But the thing is, I do,” Keith said simply with a small, uncertain smile, “I _do_ find you every bit as attractive as you were the first day I saw you. I- geez, am I really that unconvincing?” Keith said, just a hint of bite in his voice from frustration. Shiro only then realized his face was screwed into an unwavering grimace. Shiro felt his heart break further. This is why he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

Shiro shook his head, “I’m sorry, Keith, baby, I just…” Shiro felt his emotions bubble to the surface and he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and blurting, “Jesus, I’m fucking forty-one, well on my way to being completely gray, and now I’m getting fucking fat, and you’re still in college, and you’re the sexiest little thing, _dammit_, you could have anyone you wanted,” Shiro winced when he finished, both from his own words and realizing he was practically shouting.

But Keith didn’t looked bothered at all from the volume of Shiro’s voice, just pensive, like he was processing Shiro’s outburst. He wore a delicate frown and said, “I didn’t know you were concerned about your age, too. Alright, I’ll start there, then. Shiro, I _love_ that you’re older than me. I always have. It’s hot. Like, hello, I have a daddy kink. Me liking your age is not gonna stop just because you’re showing it more than you used to. But really, you were already going gray when we met, so it’s not like this isn’t what I figured you’d look like within three years!”

“Sans the gut, maybe?” Shiro said, unable to keep the smallest of uncertain smiles from creeping across his face.

Keith looked pleased that Shiro was hearing him out, and continued undeterred, “Shiro, I know this might be hard for you to understand, and I think that’s my fault, but I _like_ the gut! I mean, I have a size kink, so why would I mind you being bigger? I’ve been with heavy guys Shiro, guys who were...y’know, significantly _bigger_ than you are.”

_Oh_. Shiro had never considered that before. He supposed that actually made sense.

He had been in his self-loathing so deep that part of him still wanted to argue it was impossible, so he protested feebly, voice quiet, “But...I don’t know, you _loved_ my abs, you’d always touch them and talk about how hot they were and how much you loved them.”

But Keith only smiled and said gently, “I’d do the same with your tummy if you’d let me.”

Shiro didn’t know what to say to that. He opened and shut his mouth, beginning to feel a little silly for his actions and blocking Keith out.

Keith’s hand moved back to Shiro’s arms where they were crossed, finally tugged gently, now trying to encourage Shiro to rest his arms at his sides. Fear and uncertainty was back instantly, but this time he allowed Keith in. 

Keith craned his head up to press a kiss into Shiro’s jaw before he began gently but inquisitively prodding Shiro’s torso. Keith was obviously trying his best to be considerate and careful. He brushed his fingers down the rounded swell of his gut through Shiro’s admittedly snug sweater, like he was trying to commit the shape to memory. He moved back to the crest of Shiro’s gut and pressed his fingertips in, just barely, as if testing the give. Then his hands drifted to Shiro’s sides, where his chubby love handles perched over his hips. Keith only caressed them gently, seeming completely enthralled in his current activity. His hands drifted to where Shiro was the softest, the pouch of pudge below his belly button.

Shiro felt his face go up in flames when Keith got a good handful and squeezed the fat he found there. Despite the alarm he felt at just how _much_ Keith was able to grab, it...didn’t feel bad, actually. But Shiro squirmed uncomfortably all the same.

It seemed to break Keith’s trance, because his eyes snapped back up to Shiro, “I- fuck, sorry, too far?”

Shiro looked down at Keith, mouth slightly open, pupils blown, hands hovering in the space between them, like he was fighting to keep them back until Shiro okayed him to keep going.

“You’re...turned on?” Shiro said, a little disbelieving, despite all Keith had said.

Keith laughed breathily, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re...impossibly hot. You always have been. But there’s something about you like this that’s just...god, it’s been driving me _crazy_, to look and not touch.”

“Sorry,” Shiro said without real remorse, smiling a little and finally feeling some of his confidence come back. It had been a while since he had seen Keith get so helplessly turned on by Shiro’s body alone, and he finally realized that the only thing stopping that had been Shiro himself. Keith really, genuinely still thought Shiro was smoking hot.

Keith’s hands were still between him, and he was looking up at Shiro expectantly, looking so _needy_ that Shiro couldn’t help carding a hand through Keith’s black hair and pulling him into a rough kiss. Keith eagerly reciprocated, taking it as an invitation to place his hands back on Shiro’s belly. Shiro didn’t mind, and wrapped one hand around Keith’s slim waist, and moved the other from Keith’s hair to rest possessively against the nape of Keith’s neck.

Keith slipped his fingers under Shiro’s sweater, where it had already began riding up, and pressed his fingertips into Shiro’s bare belly, breaking the kiss to keen breathily and whisper, “Daddy…”

The word alone sent blood rushing instantly to Shiro’s cock, let alone the way Keith had begun nipping at his jaw. An unhelpful part of his brain reminded him of an earlier image he had seen in the mirror that morning; the realization that his jaw and chin were going soft. Keith had obviously noticed, too.

But Keith also obviously didn’t care. Shiro would have to decide for himself later if _he_ actually cared, if he wanted to recommit to dieting, but for now, fuck it.

Keith had moved close enough to Shiro that their torsos were flush, and one of his hands was happily squishing the chub at his sides, while the other hand groped his round backside. He began to bring one leg up and around Shiro’s, encouraging the man to pick him up and bring him to the bedroom like Shiro had done a million times before. Shiro got both his hands on the underside of Keith’s thighs and lifted the boy up effortlessly, and Keith gave a quiet squeak followed by babbling, “Ooh, yes, daddy, please…” Shiro felt him hold tight with his legs and hook his ankles together around the small of Shiro’s back. His brain cruelly reminded him that Keith wouldn’t be able to do that much longer if his waistline kept expanding. But Shiro shook those thoughts from his head as Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and looked him in the eyes, looking already completely sexed up with his hair mussed up and pupils wide, but his expression was so happy and fond that Shiro’s heart felt like it would explode.

Shiro’s stomach had maybe the most unfortunate timing ever, and gave a low growl just as he started walking from the kitchen to the bedroom. Shiro felt his cheeks blaze again. Keith paused from where he moved back to licking and kissing Shiro’s neck to look down at where Shiro’s belly was pressed against his skinny torso, before looking up at Shiro, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Should we eat first? You made dinner, I wouldn’t want it to get cold,” Keith suggested, panting delicately.

“Are you kidding me?” Shiro said, not even bothering to glance backwards at the meal he had prepared and glaring down at his plump belly instead, “I can reheat it, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be hungry,” Keith said, still giving Shiro bedroom eyes, but bringing a hand down to caress the belly between them.

“I’m hungry for something else, baby,” Shiro growled into Keith’s ear, making him shiver and clutch at Shiro’s shirt.

“Fuh- okay, okay, yeah, let’s go, pleeease, daddy,” Keith began babbling again as Shiro was already on his way to the bedroom.

After sex, after dinner, they found themselves curled up on the couch, Keith snug in one of Shiro’s sweaters that hung off his tiny frame and nothing else, curled in his lap like a cat, feeding Shiro little wrapped chocolates one after the other, somehow managing to look completely innocent the whole time.

Upon Keith’s insistence, Shiro was shirtless. He had a pair of sweatpants on, but they offered little in the way of protection from Keith’s exploring hands.

Not that Shiro really wanted protection. Not anymore, at least. He was beginning to suspect that Keith liked Shiro’s added weight even more than he had liked his abs. The kid certainly couldn’t keep his hands to himself, constantly prodding and squeezing Shiro’s belly. He had insisted Shiro have at least seconds at dinner (Shiro didn’t need the encouragement there; he ended up with thirds) and now here they were, with Keith hand feeding him chocolate after chocolate.

“You know, if you preferred chubby guys you could’ve told me,” Shiro said, accepting a piece of chocolate from Keith, letting his warm tongue bump Keith’s fingers.

Keith squirmed, looking bashful, “I don’t _prefer_ them, not really. I like both. A lot. I just, uh. ...I don’t know. You look really good. You feel _really_ good. So, uh, I’d be lying if I said that you putting on some weight hasn’t been really hot.”

Shiro hummed. He appreciated Keith’s honesty, and was beginning to mind his weight less. Maybe he wouldn’t try to lose weight after all. One of Keith’s hands fell to his bloated belly and the other reached for another chocolate and pressed it to Shiro’s lips, which he accepted.

“When you presented the idea of dessert, I assumed you’d have some, too.”

“I had one,” Keith protested with a careless shrug.

“Literally _one_. How many have you fed me?”

Keith bit his lip and admitted quietly, “I lost count.”

Shiro laughed and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position for his belly. He was well past full, but Keith looked so happy perched on his lap that he figured he could make some more room. He didn’t miss the way Keith’s eyes were trained on his belly as Shiro shifted, mesmerized by how it wobbled.

“You better never wear a shirt to bed again, by the way,” Keith mumbled, absently rubbing the crest of Shiro’s belly, where he was the most full.

Shiro mock-gasped, unable to resist teasing him, “_Never_? Not even if World War 3 happens and we have to survive the nuclear winter?”

Keith snorted delicately and put his head down, laughing softly into Shiro’s chest, “You’re a dork.”

Shiro smiled and pressed a kiss into the top of Keith’s head, “Don’t worry, baby. No shirts to bed, I promise.”

_ 

Keith didn’t want to come across like he was staring, but he also definitely _was_.

Shiro was trying valiantly to close a pair of black slacks. He already had a light purple button up on that was hardly decent. The buttons clung to the thick curve of Shiro’s belly, and the ones that were snug against the lower part of his belly strained just enough to reveal peeks of his white undershirt, which Keith knew was just as tight as everything else he was wearing.

Keith usually wasn’t awakened by Shiro leaving for work in the morning. But every now and then he’d bearily be aware of Shiro’s alarm going off, he’d blink a few times and make some tired and grumpy sounds. Then Shiro would lean over, apologize for waking him, give him a kiss on the forehead and Keith would be right back to sleep. That exact routine had happened this morning, but when Shiro went to get dressed before Keith had fallen back to sleep, Keith couldn’t help but suddenly be fully awake. Keith had been treated to Shiro sucking in his belly to do up his buttons, then he exhaled and Keith watched with glee as his belly grew, straining against its confines.

He had now moved to button up his pants. They were already snug across his thighs, hips, and ass, and with his belly perched in between the flaps. Keith was incredulous that he’d be able to do them up. Sure enough, Shiro sucked in again and tried to pull the flaps together, but wasn’t quite able to put the button through the hole.

Keith sat up in bed, still wrapped in a myriad of blankets and his hair a mess, to watch Shiro with a sleepy smile but keen eyes.

Shiro had a blush high on his cheeks, but he didn’t turn away from Keith as he tried once more to button his slacks below his belly. Even clothed, Keith appreciated the way his chubby tummy bunched up when Shiro sucked in and tried to yank the sides of the pants together. He was getting pretty close, but still no luck.

Shiro seemed to have given up as he glared down at his pants. He sighed and looked up at Keith’s eyes, looking somewhat flustered but also teasing.

“Are you still going to deny having a weight gain kink while you sit there and watch your fat boyfriend try to button slacks he’s outgrown?” Shiro said. He had accused Keith several times of having a weight gain kink at this point, and every time Keith had to admit (privately) that maybe he had a point. Because he most certainly _was_ enjoying the show.

“Firstly, you’re not fat. Secondly, I bet we can get those on. C’mere, lay down,” Keith said, patting a spot on the bed that was directly in front of him.

Shiro grinned at him, probably because Keith didn’t deny what he had said about having a kink, but laid down on the bed all the same, knees hanging off the edge.

Keith immediately swung a leg over Shiro, straddling his thighs that had gotten wider, but also even more comfortable to sit on. Keith enjoyed that the fabric around them was strained, too.

He ran a hand down the inseam of Shiro’s pants, and Shiro gasped, surprised.

“These can’t be comfortable,” Keith said quietly, savoring how squishy Shiro had gotten around his inner thighs.

Shiro made a face, “They haven’t been for a while. I’ve been putting off going to the tailor. But if I’m being honest, I could use new casual clothes, too. New jeans, for sure.”

Keith hummed sympathetically, and rested a hand on Shiro’s belly. The buttons on his shirt were less strained when he was laying down, but his stomach still bowed outwards. Keith leaned down to press a sweet kiss to Shiro’s mouth.

When Keith pulled away, Shiro looked relaxed and content, but said, “I’m going to be late if we don’t get these on.”

He reached down to do it himself, even with Keith across his thighs, but Keith shooed his hands away.

“I want to. If that’s okay,” Keith added, not wanting to make Shiro uncomfortable. He had gotten more comfortable with his body over the past few weeks after Keith had told him that he liked _big_, in any form it came in, but he could still be a little self-conscious sometimes. Which, even if it quietly broke Keith’s heart every time, was fair enough, considering the stigmas around being overweight. Keith would tell him he was sexy and handsome however many times he needed to hear it.

Shiro’s blush deepened, but he nodded, letting his hands come to rest at his sides.

Keith eagerly took both sides of his pants, and Shiro huffed, before inhaling and sucking in his belly to allow Keith to do them up. With the added help of gravity flattening Shiro’s belly, Keith was able to get them closed without too much additional struggle. He still had to tug pretty hard, but nothing he couldn’t manage. Especially if Shiro was willing to let Keith manhandle him like this. Keith’s dick was fully awake before he really was, and was making itself completely visible through his sweatpants.

Once Keith got Shiro’s zipper up, Shiro released his breath with a relieved sigh, and Keith felt a jolt as Shiro’s belly expanded and brushed against his knuckles. He couldn’t help the little tired, happy sound that came out of him as he reached his long fingers up to gently press into Shiro’s belly.

Shiro put an arm around Keith, holding him in place so he could stay on Shiro’s thighs, and sat up. He still looked flushed, but very happy, as he smiled tenderly at Keith and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Keith couldn’t help but notice the way Shiro’s belly rolled over the waistband of his pants. His hands were there immediately, pressing into his sides and feeling how his love handles overflowed the sides of his pants. A true muffin top. It would look less obvious once Shiro put his suit jacket on, which almost made Keith a little disappointed.

Shiro pulled away and glanced down at Keith’s hands, where they were squishing the fat on his sides.

“I guess I should make that appointment with the tailor, huh? I’ll probably have to just buy a few new suits. I doubt they can let these out enough that they’ll be good for much longer,” Shiro said with a sigh, plucking at his waistband.

“Can I come, daddy?” Keith asked, leaning in to rest his head on Shiro’s chest.

Shiro chuckled, “Sure, baby. This got you all hot and bothered, hm? Mr. I-don’t-have-a-weight-gain-kink.”

“I just have a _Shiro_ kink,” Keith said, snuggling deeper into Shiro’s chest, making the older man chuckle and wrap his arms around Keith.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you, but our annual holiday party is coming up at work. Do you want to come this year?” Shiro asked.

Keith had flat out refused the first year they were dating. The second, he actually had planned to attend, but ended up with a nasty bout of the flu.

These sorts of social gatherings were really not Keith’s thing. He wasn’t very good at small talk, and he knew the impression he gave most people; cold, distant, flippant. Shiro knew Keith wasn’t a fan of events like that, and never pressured Keith into going. But Keith knew that _for some reason_, it meant a lot to Shiro. Honestly, it was kind of hard for Keith to process that Shiro wouldn’t want to keep Keith’s entire existence a secret from his corporate buddies. He was the exact opposite of the busty blonde trophy wives most of them probably had.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Keith said, inclining his head to press a kiss to Shiro’s neck.

“You don’t have to,” Shiro said earnestly, but Keith could practically hear the happy smile on his face.

“I already said I’ll come,” Keith said just a bit testily, coupled with a roll of his eyes.

Shiro gave an amused huff and said, “This’ll work out then. I’ll make an appointment to get new measurements, and we can get you a suit while we’re there, too.”

“I have a suit,” Keith protested, already knowing that he was going to lose this argument. It was one they’ve had before.

“The suit you have is from your high school graduation, and it’s at least an inch too short for you, the pants and jacket both,” Shiro said resolutely. A few days before the Holiday party last year, Keith had tried it on, and Shiro had fretted instantly that it didn’t fit perfectly. There hadn’t been enough time to get him fitted for a new one, and Keith had protested, “It’s not that bad, there will be people in worse suits.”

But Shiro had just rolled his eyes and said, “It’s not a bad suit, and there will definitely be people in worse, but you deserve the very best, baby.”

Sparing himself the same argument, Keith gave in, “Okay, okay, fine. It’s a waste of money, but fine.”

Shiro hummed, pleased, and began transferring Keith from where he still sat on Shiro’s thighs back to the bed. Keith whined in protest.

“I’ve got to get to work, baby,” Shiro consoled him, standing up off the bed, but turning back to make sure Keith was tucked in properly, and giving him a final kiss on the forehead.

Keith watched with interest as Shiro slipped a tie around his neck and deftly tied a half windsor. Then he shrugged on his suit jacket, and Keith was absolutely unable to stop himself from asking, “Can you button that?”

Shiro flushed, looking caught, before smiling bashfully and shaking his head no. To demonstrate, Shiro took the button and hole in each hand and tugged a few times. It was a solid two inches from buttoning, and Keith was treated to Shiro’s belly bouncing from the movement.

He released his suit jacket and gave his belly a few pats with a sigh, “No one at work has said anything.”

“As if they’d say anything to Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro smirked at that, looking like Keith’s words gave him all the confidence in the world. He ran his hands over his torso a few times, as if to smooth out wrinkles that definitely did not exist with how tight his outfit was.

He began to leave the bedroom to start his day, but not before smiling over his shoulder at Keith and saying, “Hope you can snag a bit more sleep, baby. Love you!”

Keith smiled sleepily in return, and responded with a tired, “Love you too, daddy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's real porn here, folks, and if you're familiar with my writing you'll know that's a rarity, so... *sweats nervously* It's pretty kinky too, so you've been warned.
> 
> It starts about 2/3 of the way through this chapter and goes to the end so just stop there if you're not into that :3  
__  
**Mind the tags, y'all**  
__  


Two weeks later, Keith made the mistake of hanging out with Lance and Hunk before his and Shiro’s appointments to get fitted for suits. They mostly played some video games. But they also smoked a few bowls. In the middle of the day, “Because why not?” Lance had said with a shrug, handing him the bong, “It’s sativa, dude, you’ll be fine.”

So when Keith returned to their apartment, red-eyed and giggly, Shiro only laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Do you still want to go? I can reschedule,” Shiro asked.

“No, I’m already sobering up,” Keith lied, because his head most definitely still swimming and he was having to actively suppress the dopey grin that threatened to split across his face. He sat down at the dining room table with Shiro as he finished his lunch and read the paper.

Shiro peered at him as he folded the newspaper and put it aside, and gave a skeptical, “Mm hm.”

Shiro must’ve went out to get his lunch, and had gotten an enormous Italian beef sandwich that Keith recognized to be from one of their favorite mom and pop places that was a few blocks away. Shiro was about halfway through the sandwich, and there were two paper sacks on the table that looked like one maybe contained fries, and the other maybe onion rings? Keith shifted in his seat. It was quite a meal.

“Did you have a nice time with Lance and Hunk?” Shiro asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Uh huh,” Keith affirmed, scooching his chair closer to Shiro’s so he could rest his head against Shiro’s broad shoulders.

He saw Shiro smile, and he reached down for a napkin to blot the grease from his lips before leaning down to press a kiss to Keith’s cheek, only to have Keith turn at the last minute so they kissed on the mouth. Shiro chuckled and Keith giggled. He felt warm and happy, just glad to be close to Shiro.

Shiro resumed his sandwich, and Keith couldn’t help creeping closer. He was thankful their dining room chairs didn’t have arms, because that would’ve made his current objective significantly harder.

He put his head back on Shiro’s shoulder, and his fingers reached out to rest against Shiro’s chest. He closed his eyes for a minute, but soon grew bored of that, and his hand drifted south to where Shiro’s belly was just barely straining against the white tee he was in. It was new, and fit him quite well, but the most delightful thing about all of Shiro’s new clothes was the revelation that no matter what he wore, you could tell he had a belly.

It would’ve been less obvious with him standing, but sitting, his belly pooched forward, pressing just enough against the shirt that you could make out the curve of it. There was enough fabric that it wasn’t even close to riding up, but Keith couldn’t help slipping a hand underneath the hem anyways, to get a feel of Shiro’s warm tummy. Keith was pretty sure that he had put on a few more pounds since they had their _talk_. Despite Shiro’s rededication to the gym (he still didn’t go nearly as often as he used to, and he admitted to Keith that he did mostly weights there), his eating habits were unchanged (actually maybe escalating??), adding more softness to his body. Shiro had admitted a few weeks ago that he put on a little under 30 pounds, but Keith couldn’t help but be hungry for the actual number. It would be more than 30 pounds now, certainly.

Not to mention that while Shiro had been able to replace his casual wardrobe already, he was still unable to get new suits until, well, today. Fastening him into one of his old suits for the past two weeks was increasingly difficult, and while his sympathy for Shiro having to spend the day in those ridiculously tight suits increased every day, his own arousal did as well.

Keith hadn’t realized how far he had crept into Shiro’s lap until the older man huffed fondly and said, “Alright, alright, c’mere, you.” He put his sandwich down and hoisted Keith onto his lap.

Keith squeaked in surprise, then felt a thrill run through him. He hadn’t been asking to be in Shiro’s lap like Shiro seemed to think, but he was perfectly happy being put there, and he _loved_ when Shiro would just pick him up and put him somewhere like that, no warning. It was so casual and easy, but also powerful and commanding and Keith lived for it.

Keith rucked up Shiro’s shirt a little more, giving his fingers plenty to explore, and leaned in to kiss Shiro.

They made out like that for a little while, slow and lazy, just enjoying each other’s company more than anything else. Shiro moved his hands from the nape of Keith’s neck to his narrow waist, then to cup his ass. Keith’s hands stayed mostly around Shiro’s torso, eagerly running his hands over the little rolls that formed at Shiro’s side, then moving up to grope his meaty pecs, then back down to gently take a handful or two of Shiro’s plush belly.

Shiro eventually pulled back, gazing into Keith’s eyes with such love that Keith felt like his chest was too tight.

“We have to leave in 10 minutes,” Shiro said, glancing at his watch.

Keith looked over his shoulder to the kitchen table, “You haven’t finished your sandwich yet,” he said. It really was a behemoth of a sandwich, and Shiro had maybe a third of it remaining.

“I’d rather do this,” Shiro said with an easy smile, moving to press kisses along Keith’s jaw.

“Are you not hungry?” Keith asked.

“I mean,” Shiro chuckled a little, glancing at the sandwich, “I’m sure I could finish it, but I’m not going to go hungry if I don’t.”

Keith just hummed and grabbed the sandwich off the table, bringing the paper it was wrapped in with so it wouldn’t get too messy, and raised it to Shiro’s lips. “If you want it, you should have it,” Keith said simply. Shiro raised an eyebrow and his lip quirked, but he took a bite nonetheless.

The angle was a bit awkward, so after a few bites, Keith gave the sandwich to Shiro and let him feed himself. He had a great view looking up at Shiro, watching his jaw work. Keith hadn’t really noticed before, but from below, it was easy to see that Shiro’s iconically sharp jawline had begun to fade into something softer.

It didn’t take Shiro terribly long to finish the sandwich, and he crumpled the paper and tossed it back on the counter, looking down at Keith. He ran an affectionate hand through Keith’s hair from where he was curled around Shiro’s torso and said, “Are you satisfied?”

“Are you?” Keith countered. Shiro could pretend all he wanted that he could’ve easily left that third of a sandwich, but Keith knew the look in Shiro’s eye. He had wanted to eat it just as much as Keith wanted him to.

“Yes,” Shiro said, scooching his chair back with both Keith and himself in it, giving Keith a few pats on his thigh, encouraging him to stand. Keith did so reluctantly.

“Let’s head out, then,” Shiro said.

_

Shiro glanced at Keith as he climbed into the passenger seat of Shiro’s car. He looked like he probably put some eye drops in while he was in the bathroom before coming down, because any remaining redness was gone, when it hadn’t been just a few minutes earlier.

All the same, Shiro’s first stop was a Starbucks. Keith had told Shiro before that caffeine always helped whenever he needed to sober up, and Keith ducked his head bashfully when he realized where Shiro was going, but gave him a thankful smile all the same.

“You didn’t have to stop here, you know. I really am okay,” Keith said after Shiro gave his order and recited Keith’s by heart.

“I know,” Shiro said, “Maybe I just wanted something.”

Keith pursed his lips, trying to hide a smile and gave a skeptical, “Mm hm.”

They chatted on the car ride over to Shiro’s favorite suit shop, and Shiro couldn’t help but grow a little anxious. He was going to learn his new measurements today. He hadn’t weighed himself since he had clocked in at 223 a few weeks ago, but if the increasing tightness of his clothes was any indicator, he had put on a few more pounds since then. He was getting disturbingly curious to step on the scale again, because he knew he’d see a higher number than last time, but he hadn’t quite mustered the courage yet.

He must’ve been quiet for a bit too long, because Keith asked, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Shiro said quickly, then mentally scolded himself for not being honest and amending, “I’m just a little anxious, is all.”

Keith furrowed his brow, “About getting fitted?”

“Yeah,” Shiro admitted, looking down at his paunch. He gave it a pat with one hand and continued, “Maybe I should tell them to make my new suits with room to let them out. I don’t see myself losing weight any time soon.”

Shiro watched Keith try to decide what to say next, before deciding on being adorably defensive, “There’s nothing wrong with that. You know I’ll support you if you want to try to lose weight, but otherwise...it’s smart to plan for the future.”

“‘The future’ being me getting fatter?”

Keith was flushed, but shrugged and rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

Shiro only hummed amusedly in response.

They arrived at the custom clothier and were immediately greeted by the extremely professional staff, handsomely dressed in their own impeccable suits. There was soft classical music playing in the background. Everything from the delicately twinkling chandeliers overhead to the decor that was a cross between colonial and posh absolutely screamed old money. They were offered flutes of champagne, and guided back into a private room.

On their way, Keith sipped his champagne, glanced at other well-dressed employees and patrons, and whispered to Shiro, “This place is absurd. This is where you always go for your suits?”

Shiro nodded, sipping his own champagne, “They’re the best in town, and they know me.”

“Well tell them to make my suit with the cheapest stuff they have. It really doesn’t have to be expensive. Or we could just go somewhere else for mine.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. Keith usually weakly protested Shiro dropping any real money on him. He’d get this little worried look, like he didn’t _really_ mind Shiro spending the money, but like he was afraid Shiro would regret it or decide Keith wasn’t worth it.

Which was absurd, because Shiro would gladly give Keith all the money in his bank account without batting an eye. There was a primal, possessive part of him that absolutely reveled in being able to provide luxury for Keith.

So Shiro said, “Not a chance, baby.”

Keith huffed at him, but was unable to hide a small smile. He liked being spoiled sometimes, even if he tried to act like he didn’t.

They were ushered into a large, plush fitting room that featured a round platform in front of a panel wall mirrors, fabric samples lining the walls, and two spacious armchairs with a small table between them.

The young lady who guided them there asked if they would like any additional refreshments before their consultant arrived, before leaving them with the utmost professionalism.

It was hardly a minute before Thomas entered, a consultant Shiro has had in the past. The middle aged man smiled familiarly and shook his and Keith’s hands, welcoming Keith and welcoming Shiro back, then making generic small talk as he pulled up a small wooden chair to sit across from them, and pulled out a pen and paper.

“So I understand we’re looking for some new suits today, yes? Mr. Shirogane, I have you down to take some updated measurements, and we’ll have to get some from you as well, Mr. Kogane. You can tell me what kind of styles you’re interested in today, or I can pick styles for you if you’d like some ideas. I also have records of some previous choices of yours, so if you’d like something similar to what you’ve gotten in the past, we can of course do that as well.”

Shiro recounted some styles of his favorite suits, and Thomas took attentive notes. Shiro glanced at Keith as he was talking, and he was sitting cross legged in the chair, fiddling with his empty champagne flute, looking mostly impassive. Shiro couldn’t help but smile. One of the things that initially drew Shiro to Keith was how different he was than every other aspect of his life. There was something about Keith that was so raw and honest. He was unapologetically himself, and if someone didn’t like it, they could fuck off. Shiro liked spoiling him with nice things, and he knew Keith liked it too, but Shiro also knew that Keith didn’t _need_ those things. He didn’t even ask for them. Keith was different.

After Shiro finished speaking, being specific about what he had in mind for himself, and tossing out a few suggestions of what he thought Keith would look good in, Thomas stood and handed them white boxes.

“Your robes are in here, please change to your undergarments and then put these on. I will return shortly. Would you care for more champagne, Mr. Kogane?”

Keith glanced up in surprise. “Oh. Um, no thank you. I’d take some water, though?”

“Sparkling or still, sir?”

“Uh. Still.”

“Domestic or imported?”

“...domestic?”

“Very good, sir. Can I get you anything Mr. Shirogane?”

Shiro couldn’t help the smile on his face. Seeing Keith out of place was more charming and adorable than it had any right being. “I’ll take a glass the same, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll be back soon, gentlemen.”

When Thomas had left, Keith snorted and said, “Was that some kind of joke? Also, who said you get to pick what kind of suit I’m getting?”

Shiro had stood and began unbuttoning his pants when he paused, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry, you can get whatever you want. I figured that you didn’t have anything specific in mind, so I-”

“No, Shiro,” Keith said, standing up as well and rolling his eyes and grinning, “I don’t _actually_ care, I kinda liked it. I’m sure whatever you picked will be fine. You were _supposed_ to say ‘you’ll wear what I want you to wear’ or something.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow and smiled, “I see,” he said, stepping closer to Keith until he could wrap his hand securely on Keith’s lower back, roughly tugging him closer. He let his voice drop to a low growl and said, “You’ll wear what I want you to wear.”

Keith looked immensely pleased and said, “Mmm, daddy,” and moved even closer so he could grind his narrow hips against Shiro’s groin. Shiro bit back a groan and pulled away.

“No, baby, you’re gonna make me hard,” Shiro said with a chuckle and Keith pouted.

Shiro stepped away with a cocked eyebrow and resumed slipping his jeans off. Keith sighed unhappily, but removed his black beanie and shucked off his oversized black band tee as well.

When Shiro had stripped out of his jeans and shirt, he took his soft, white silk robe out of its box and began putting it on.

“Wait, you’re still wearing a shirt,” Keith protested, stepping closer to tug on the hem of Shiro’s undershirt.

“It’s just an undershirt, they can measure over it.”

Keith frowned and pushed the fabric up the crest of his belly. “This defeats the whole purpose of me coming here today, you know,” he said, drumming his fingers across the slope of his belly.

“The purpose of you coming here today is to get you a new suit.”

Keith squeezed the pooch of his belly, under his belly button, where it was starting to really swell with the extra weight Shiro had added lately. His hands traveled to Shiro’s sides, and he gave that chubby flesh a squeeze, too. Despite it all, Shiro felt his dick twitch.

“Ugh, baby, no,” Shiro said, plucking Keith’s dejected hands off himself.

Keith grumbled, dissatisfied. “We don’t get to mess around in the changing room, you won’t take off your undershirt, what’s even the point of being here?”

Shiro gave an admittedly dramatic sigh before shrugging his robe off his shoulders and reaching for the hem of his undershirt. Keith reached out to stop him, and Shiro looked at him, confused.

“I’m just...being difficult, you really don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable, Shiro. It’s really fine, I promise.”

Internally, Shiro’s heart felt warm from Keith’s thoughtfulness. He was still maybe a little anxious, but no one would ever say a word in a place like this. And it would only be them and the consultant, Thomas. So Shiro raised an eyebrow at Keith and continued to pull his shirt off.

Keith bit his lip and hummed happily, coming closer again to nuzzle Shiro’s softening pecs, pressing his lips into the moderately hairy flesh and looking completely content.

Shiro complained, “Baaaaby,” and pushed against his shoulders a little, encouraging him to step away and focus on getting himself changed.

This time, Keith obediently stepped back and wiggled out of his distressed skinny jeans and draped the silky robe over his skinny form. It swallowed him, and Shiro couldn’t help but think he looked absolutely precious. Shiro put his robe back on as well, now feeling only a little nervous.

They had sat back down and soon there was a knock on the door. Thomas entered with a tray with their glasses of water, complete with a little plate of sliced lemons and cucumber placed in a decisive radial pattern that they could add to flavor their water themselves. There was even a tiny pair of tongs so they didn’t need to use their hands. In his other hand, Thomas brought in a tape measure and a clipboard. It was an awful lot of stuff to carry, but Thomas managed it with complete grace and set the tray with their refreshments on the table between Keith and Shiro.

“May I get you gentlemen anything else before we proceed?”

Shiro glanced at Keith who had picked up his glass and taken a sip, not before bypassing the plate with lemons and cucumbers with a sneer. Shiro felt the corner of his mouth quirk.

“I think we’re ready,” Shiro said.

“Wonderful. Why don’t we begin with measurements?”

Shiro uncrossed his legs and stood. He saw Keith looking at him out of the corner of his eye with an unabashedly excited grin on his face. Cheeky kid.

Shiro felt a little pang of anxiety as he untied his robe and hung it on the little gold hook to one side of the pedestal. The last time he was here with Thomas as his consultant he had been in impeccable shape. He wondered if Thomas remembered.

If he did, he was doing a remarkable job at remaining completely professional. He didn’t even blink at the way Shiro’s belly rounded over the waistband of his boxers, looking thick and soft. Shiro saw Keith’s reflection in the mirror grow increasingly interested as he gazed headily at Shiro’s nearly naked form.

Thomas began taking Shiro’s new measurements with impassive professionalism. He started around Shiro’s shoulders and chest and Shiro lifted his arms or turned however Thomas directed him. Shiro stared at his reflection as Thomas ran the measuring tape around his body. He knew he hadn’t exactly stopped putting on weight in the past few weeks, but seeing it laid out in front of him like this was different. It had become increasingly difficult to fasten himself into his suits every morning, even with Keith’s help. At least Keith wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He had started actually waking with Shiro to ‘help,’ the kinky little thing. It would still take at least three weeks to get suits made from today, even if he paid to have them expedited. He only really had two of his biggest suits left at this point that he could still squeeze himself into, and only just. He was considering asking Thomas to pull some items off the rack so Shiro could leave with at least a new pair of trousers today.

Upon watching his reflection, he tried to quell the little unwelcome negative thoughts that bubbled into his head. He had realized that his negative emotions regarding his weight nowadays stemmed almost exclusively from external pressures. He felt a weird sense of guilt, like _of course_ he should want his old body back, and that it was such a _shame_ he let himself go. But Shiro realized that those thoughts weren’t really how he felt, they were how he _thought_ he should feel. Because the honest truth was, he didn’t mind being this big. There were parts of it that he actually really liked. Something about being this big made him feel even more in charge and powerful, especially at work. His size alone demanded attention when he walked into a room. He felt fine physically, too. There was obviously no denying that he was a bit out of shape, but he could still lift just as much as he used to, usually actually a little more. A few too many stairs made him out of breath, but it didn’t really bother him. Not to mention how much Keith obviously loved his size.

But sometimes it was easier than others to tell negative thoughts to fuck off.

Thomas wasn’t reading measurements aloud, and there were some Shiro couldn’t have seen if he wanted to because of the angle and positioning of the tape measure. But when Thomas asked Shiro to raise his arms a bit and wrapped the measure directly over the widest part of him, right across his belly button and love handles, Shiro couldn’t help but look down to see the reading. He felt his face heat up when he saw the verdict: 37 inches.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, the new jeans he had to get a few weeks ago clocked in at 36s and still fit pretty comfortably, two sizes up from the 32s that he had worn for years. Now, being a few inches shy of 40 made him sweat.

Shiro glanced at Keith’s reflection in the mirror and saw him still very much looking horny, returning Shiro’s glance with an obviously heady, sultry gaze of his own. He obviously couldn’t care less that their consultant was also in the room. If Thomas had picked up on the ‘fuck me, daddy,’ signals that Keith was emitting, he did a remarkable job hiding it.

Shiro turned his gaze to his reflection. His belly was chubby enough to grab a few good handfuls of, flowing into soft pockets of chub above his hips. The fat that sat there loved to fold into rolls, especially when he was sitting. This always delighted Keith, and he loved to run his hands over them and pinch at them. He had been feeling awfully _fat_ lately at work with how poorly his suits had been fitting. He had to button them underneath his gut for weeks, giving him a generous muffin top, that was not at all concealed by how similarly snug all his shirts were, gaping at the buttons and emphasizing how his poochy tummy was rounding out and slowly beginning to succumb to gravity. 

One might think that with all that, Shiro would’ve stopped eating so damn much, even if it was out of physical discomfort rather than insecurity. But maybe Shiro was just becoming a proper glutton, because he’d still get donuts from the kitchen at work. He’d still ask for extra cream and sugar in his coffee from the office assistant. And when he went to business meals, he still ordered sides of mashed potatoes instead of broccoli, a beer or scotch instead of water, burgers instead of salad, and steaks instead of salmon. And whoever he was with, they’d always get appetizers and dessert too, because, hey, the company’s paying, right?

So he’d eat, and eat, and eat. Until whatever was on the table was gone. Until the buttons on his shirt threatened to fly off and until his pants felt like they were cutting him in half.

His fellow partners at work had been doing some teasing lately that maybe would’ve hurt if they weren’t all well into the overweight category themselves. He knew that most of their wives insisted on them eating well at home, so they used their business meals as a chance to indulge. But Shiro didn’t have that situation with Keith; it was the opposite really. He was just pigging out at every single opportunity.

But glancing back at Keith’s reflection, who hadn’t stopped drinking Shiro in, his eyes roaming up and down Shiro’s nearly nude figure over and over, Shiro couldn’t help but still feel sexy. Honestly, sometimes when Shiro started to feel down about his body, one of the most helpful things to do was adopt a more ‘Keith’ mindset. Usually it went something like, ‘Your twink boyfriend thinks you’re sexy as fuck, you have an amazing job and are completely happy with your life; who gives a fuck if you’re a little fat?’ And really, how could he argue with that? It was true, and thinking like that always boosted his spirits.

It wasn’t long before Thomas finished taking measurements and Shiro put his robe back on, but feeling more comfortable than before. His time in front of the mirror wasn’t over, and next Thomas presented him with some samples for new shirts, and some for suits, draping them over Shiro’s shoulder so he could get an idea of what the colors would look like on him. He was familiar with this song and dance, and confidently pointed out the ones he liked. When Thomas draped a navy pinstripe pattern over Shiro’s shoulder, he heard Keith make a little happy noise from his chair.

“That one’s really nice, Takashi,” he said, barely above a whisper, but it was plenty loud in the room. He took a small sip of his water, maintaining eye contact with Shiro. Jesus. Calling Shiro ‘Takashi’ was basically the closest to calling Shiro ‘daddy’ that Keith could get while they were in public. The kid was really asking for it.

After Shiro chose the styles and colors, making sure to include the one Keith liked so much, Thomas jotted them down and gave a few approving nods, “Excellent choices, sir. I’ll bring in samples for you to try on so we can confirm your choices, after we finish with Mr. Kogane as well.”

Shiro stepped down and returned to sit, and Keith rose, giving Shiro a blatantly flirtatious look and moving to the mirrors. Keith easily untied his silky robe and let it slip off his shoulders before hanging it on the little golden hook to one side of the platform and stepped up. Shiro took a moment to admire him.

He was quite tiny, prone to overeating exclusively when he had the munchies, unlike Shiro who was _always_ prone to overeating. Honestly, Keith probably was technically underweight. Not concerningly so, but enough that the faint outline of his ribs were usually faintly visible, like they were now under the changing room lighting, and his hip bones poked out noticeably. Shiro definitely agreed with Keith on one thing; the difference in their size _was_ exciting. He liked how easily he could pick Keith up and toss him over his shoulder, or pin him down and do whatever he wanted with him. Besides, the whole skinny look was part of Keith’s aesthetic, it went well with his ‘dark and angsty young adult’ thing. It worked for Keith, and Shiro always thought he was impossibly good looking, alternating between sexy and absolutely adorable.

But there was a protective, primal side of Shiro that always felt a little tense when he remembered that Keith was a bit underweight. Keith was perfectly healthy, there really wasn’t reason for concern, but Shiro sometimes wondered what he’d look like with just a bit more weight, enough to blur the lines of his collarbones and the jutting bones of his shoulders.

Shiro fixed his own glass of water, ignoring the tongs and picking a slice of lemon with his hands so he could squeeze it before dropping it in.

Looking up to the scene before him, Thomas had the tape measure around Keith’s narrow waist, and while Thomas never read measurements aloud and only jotted them into his clipboard, Shiro was seated close enough to see the measurement of a lean 27 inches.

When Thomas moved to measure Keith’s inseam and Keith parted his legs a little to make Thomas’ job easier, Shiro felt a surge of angry possessiveness that surprised him. Thomas made barely any actual physical contact with Keith, completely professional as expected, but the proximity and position made Shiro want to shout, ‘STOP’ and toss Thomas out of the room while he took Keith right then and there, reminding him that he belonged to Shiro.

It was a ridiculous notion, foremostly because Keith belonged to no one but himself, even if he said differently during sex because it got both of them off. Shiro blamed these thoughts on Keith for getting Shiro’s mind in the gutter while they were supposed to be changing into their robes, then giving him amorous looks through the whole appointment. Usually he was better about controlling his more dominant urges, but he was fighting his dick this whole appointment, refusing to let it rise like it so desperately wanted to. Keith’s goal had been to get Shiro worked up, and he had definitely succeeded.

When Thomas was thankfully done measuring Keith, he slipped his robe back on. Thomas presented him with different colors and fabrics as well, many of which Shiro recognized as things he suggested. Keith only really shrugged at his options, which made his silky robe slide down one of his slim shoulders. He obviously realized, but made no move to fix it.

Instead he looked at Shiro through the mirror, “What d’you think, Takashi?” he said, words slow and coquettish.

Shiro swallowed and said as calmly as he could muster, “The dark grey tweed, I’d say single breasted. Bring him a few different shirts to try, maybe the plum, the dark olive, and,” Shiro paused before finishing, “the pink, as well.”

Keith gave him a dirty look for that last one, but Shiro only smiled innocently.

Thomas jotted down his instructions and said, “Very good, gentlemen. I’ll be back shortly with some styles for you to try on.”

When Thomas left the room, Keith was still standing, and crossed his arms to glare at Shiro’s sitting form.

“I’m _not_ wearing pink,” he stated adamantly, jutting his jaw out with defiance. In that moment, wrapped in a silky robe, hands on his hips, inside a plush, expensive changing room, he looked like a spoiled brat. Keith was too down to earth for that in reality, which was really just another thing that Shiro loved about him. But still, there was something exciting about the image.

Shiro smiled easily and sipped his lemon water, “Aw, but baby, you’d look so _pretty_. At least try it on.”

Keith grumbled unhappily, flopping onto his own chair and fixing a sour gaze onto Shiro, “And tweed? That’s for nerds.”

Shiro laughed out loud at that, “It absolutely is not. You’re going to look great, would you just trust me? If you don’t like it, you can get something else.”

Keith huffed again and crossed his arms, looking irritated.

“Yeesh, always so cranky when you’re horny,” Shiro clicked his tongue, expecting more venom from Keith in return.

Instead Keith’s coldness crumpled and he whined, squirming in his seat and looked at Shiro with needy eyes, “I just- fuck, Shiro, you looked so good up there, so fucking sexy I can’t even fucking handle it. Maybe I’m still kinda high, okay? You know I get horny when I’m high. I thought, I dunno, we’re at some fancy tailor in downtown Chicago, I’m sure there’s been a million rich couples banging in these dressing rooms! I wanna be one of them! Is there like a mile high club equivalent for fucking at the tailors?”

“Keith, baby, I promise I’ll fuck you as many times as you want, alright? We just have to get through this appointment,” Shiro couldn’t help grinning as he said it. Keith could get so testy and demanding when he was aroused and with their dynamics, Shiro held all the power, so it was mostly just amusing to see how worked up he could get himself before Shiro finally gave in. He always did, really. In fact, Shiro figured they could mess around after Thomas came back with their sample suits. Shiro had been here often enough to know that he’d bring some stuff for them to try on, they’d confirm that it’s what they wanted, then Thomas would leave and then they had all the time they needed to change back into their street clothes. Or do other things. Then, once they left the room, Shiro would go to the front desk to pay, and that would be that.

Shiro opened his mouth to tell Keith he’d be able to get some relief, when there was a knock at the door, followed by Thomas reentering, wheeling in a rack with several jackets, shirts, and bottoms. He pulled two matching sets apart from the rest.

“Why don’t we start with these? I’ll give you gentlemen a moment to change, just knock on your door when you are ready. I’ll be on the other side,” Thomas said with his pleasant smile, and then was gone again.

Shiro saw with delight that Thomas just happened to pair Keith’s sample suit with the pink shirt he had suggested. Keith stood and glared at the selection.

“Just try it on,” Shiro said as he got up, chuckling and pressing a kiss into Keith’s hair. Shiro could see that he was sporting a semi through his revealing silk robe.

Keith only huffed and shrugged out of his robe, obediently putting the outfit on. Shiro did the same, and couldn’t help feeling a wave of relief at how easy the suit was to get on. It was a black gabardine suit, double breasted with a shawl lapel. It was a similar style to one of Shiro’s favorite suits, and the ease that he was able to get it on himself was refreshing. It was paired with a pastel blue shirt. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and couldn’t help smiling. He looked more like himself than he had in awhile. The fit wasn’t perfect; the pants and sleeves were too short, not quite broad enough in the shoulders, and the shirt was still a little snug around his belly, but it was still a better look than he had been sporting the past few weeks.

He looked at Keith and couldn’t help but think he looked absolutely _dashing_. It was a surprisingly good fit considering it was a sample, being a few inches too short, but fitting okay everywhere else. Tweed could be a little bulky, so Shiro usually avoided it, but it suited Keith’s body like Shiro had thought it would, adding a little volume to his frame. As much as Keith hated it, Shiro actually thought the soft pink was quite nice. It looked good with the grey, and it softened Keith’s dark features.

They knocked for Thomas, who had them get back on the pedestal and do some more twisting and turning. He took his tape measure out a few more times. Keith vetoed the pink, which was fine, and decided on the plum. Shiro’s side of the appointment took longer, trying on a few different suits, then having to twist and turn for Thomas. 

The appointment was coming to a close, Shiro making his final decisions on their purchases, Thomas jotting everything down diligently. Two of the sample suits fit Shiro remarkably well, and as much as Shiro loathed buying suits off the rack, he asked Thomas if they were available for purchase today. He’d really hate to blow a button on one of his other two remaining suits and be left with literally nothing. Thomas said it was no problem.

“And, uh,” Shiro said a bit awkwardly, ghosting a hand over his middle, “Perhaps they should be made with room to let them out. I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

A genuine smile crossed Thomas’ face as he wrote that down, and he said, “Aren’t we all? Not a problem, sir.”

Thomas wheeled the selections out of the room and said, “Please take your time changing. Your order will be at the front desk, please go there before you leave. Is there anything else I can assist you gentlemen with today?”

Shiro shook his head, “Thank you for your help, Thomas.”

“My pleasure, gentlemen,” he said, before bowing out of the room.

The door had barely shut when Shiro suddenly had a lapful of Keith. They were both back in their robes, so Shiro could easily feel Keith’s hardness as he ground into his lap.

“We’re finally alone, right? He’s not gonna come back, is he? Shiro, I’ve been fighting my hard on for like, _ages_, and you look so good in _everything_, can we _please_-”

“You’ve been naughty today, though, haven’t you? Trying to get your way while I kept saying no? Being a tease through this whole appointment?” Shiro held _tight_ onto Keith’s hips, not tight enough to hurt him, but tight enough that he couldn’t really move around under Shiro’s grip.

Keith blinked up at him, lips parting, but no sound came out. Shiro usually gave Keith whatever he asked for. But he’d been pushing Shiro’s buttons all day. He knew that the sure-fire to get Shiro to really be a more rough was to get him a little frustrated, and he definitely made that happen today. Keith knew his safe word, and would use it if he needed to. Shiro cocked an eyebrow at him, which seemed to spur him on again.

Keith played cute, pawing at Shiro’s belly, visible through the silky robe, “I...I just wanted _you_ daddy, that’s all. Please, I _need_ you…” he trailed off, trying to worm his hands into Shiro’s robe. Now Shiro grabbed his wrists gently but effectively.

Keith absolutely _writhed_ in protest, whining as loud as he dared in the dressing room, trying fruitlessly to free himself, but making it into more of a show than it had to be.

“On your knees,” Shiro said, hearing his own voice drop to a low growl. Keith’s eyes went wide, but he looked more eager than he had all day. He clambered clumsily onto the ground between Shiro’s seated legs, awaiting his next instructions obediently.

Shiro scooted forward and untied his robe, leaving it on his shoulders but letting it fall open, and began to slide his boxers off. He watched amusedly as Keith gave it his all to not squirm in anticipation, eyes locked on Shiro’s hands.

Once Shiro removed his boxers, revealing his own hard dick, he paused teasingly. Keith’s eyes were on Shiro’s dick like a magnet, but he hadn’t been given the okay yet. When Shiro didn’t speak, Keith finally met Shiro’s eyes, looking frantic and desperate.

“Are you ready, baby?”

Keith nodded enthusiastically and bit his lip so hard Shiro was surprised it didn’t bleed. It was probably to keep his own mouth shut, because certainly all that would come out was more hapless begging.

“Alright, go ahead,” Shiro said.

Keith dove in like he was made for it. He groaned lewdly as his mouth made contact with Shiro’s dick, licking and sucking, wearing his urgency blatantly. Shiro wrapped a hand behind Keith’s head, forcing him to take more of himself into his mouth. It took quite a bit before Keith gagged, but even that didn’t deter him.

Shiro enjoyed his blow job for as long as he dared without coming himself, before pushing Keith’s shoulders back to remove his hungry mouth from his own dick. Keith gasped and panted, like he had been holding his breath the whole time. Shiro wouldn’t put it past him when he got so excited like this.

“Ready for more, sweetheart?” Shiro growled, pulling Keith’s chin delicately in his fingers to meet his eyes. Keith was still on his knees, quaking. Still breathing heavy, his lips were swollen and shone from saliva and Shiro’s precum. His pupils were blown and his lids were hooded as he breathed, “Yes, daddy, please, please…”

“Take off your robe and underwear,” Shiro commanded and Keith scrambled to obey, shucking the silky robe and his boxer briefs off and tossing them carelessly over his shoulder. He then kneeled back in front of Shiro, obviously trying his hardest to be still but failing miserably.

“I brought lube and a condom, they’re in my jacket pocket. Go get them.”

Keith paused only for a second, obviously surprised that Shiro had brought anything, then scurried to where their street clothes were, producing a petite bottle and a condom that was tucked in one of Shiro’s jacket pockets. He placed them in Shiro’s outstretched hand and went to kneel in front of him again, when Shiro patted his lap instead. Shiro expected him to dive in, start kissing Shiro or begging again, but he refrained, knowing that would only make Shiro go slower at this point.

“Good boy,” Shiro praised, twirling the bottle of lube in his hands, “You know what this means, right? You were going to get exactly what you wanted all along, if you had just been patient for it.”

Keith squirmed in his lap and bit his lip, eyes darting up to meet Shiro’s, but he didn’t say anything.

“Instead, you’ve been naughty, haven’t you?” Shiro coupled his words with a light touch to Keith’s dick, grazing the pad of his thumb just barely across the head. Keith gasped loudly, his hands grasping at the chair they were both seated in.

“You know how this works, baby. No touching yourself, and you only get to come when I say.”

Fervent nodding, “Yes, daddy, yes, yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I promise...”

“I expect that you will,” Shiro said, uncapping the lube and squeezing some out onto his hand. He reached behind Keith to find his hole, but instead of beginning to stretch him, he lazily ran his fingers in circles around his rim, greatly enjoying the choked sounds it produced from Keith.

“You can touch me, baby,” Shiro said, even now unable to truly deny him, catching the way Keith’s already watery eyes were darting all over Shiro’s naked form.

Keith’s hands had been gripping the chair for dear life, and moved immediately to grip Shiro’s flanks instead, squeezing the softness he found there with a frenzied gasp.

Shiro slid a single finger inside Keith, not inserting it all the way, wiggling it around just barely. Keith produced a pitiful whimper, shoulders shaking. His other hand went back to Keith’s dick, squeezing the base, producing a loud moan from Keith.

“Shh, don’t be too loud or we’ll have to stop,” Shiro said.

Keith looked at Shiro with terrified, huge eyes, like he’d truly rather die than have that happen. He pressed his lips together, probably in an attempt to silence himself, but still releasing another muffled groan when Shiro finally inserted his finger all the way inside him.

Keith’s hands became active on Shiro’s torso once again, pressing into the plump mound of his belly, kneading it like dough and looking so gone Shiro wondered if he’d be able to produce a complete sentence like this. He was hunched over against Shiro’s shoulders, fingers still weakly pawing at Shiro’s belly.

Shiro removed his finger and ran a few more circles around his rim, agonizingly slowly, before he added a second finger into Keith.

“Ngh,” Keith grunted, looking so ready to beg Shiro to hurry, but also knowing that begging just resulted in him going even slower.

“Being so good, baby. Taking your punishment so well.”

He felt he was being generous enough at this point that it probably didn’t count much as punishment anymore, but whatever. He coupled the words with scissoring his fingers inside Keith, causing him to buck his hips against nothing and choke down a pitiful sob.

“Such a tease all through this appointment. You know just how to get me worked up, don’t you, baby?”

“D-Daddy,” Keith breathed, sucking in a raspy breath when Shiro curled his fingers.

“Almost shoved Thomas out of this fucking room when he had you in front of that mirror. His hand on your thigh,” Shiro said with sudden tight-lipped ferocity, remembering the scene, “You’re _mine_.”

“Yours, yours, daddy, only yours,” Keith agreed hastily, hands moving to squeeze more of Shiro’s belly fat.

Shiro slipped a third finger in and Keith keened, high and needy, going nearly limp on top of Shiro. 

Soon after he put it in, he slipped all his fingers out. He didn’t want Keith _too_ stretched. He wanted it to burn, just a little. Not nearly enough to hurt the other man, but enough that he remembered he was supposed to be in trouble.

He slipped the condom on, mainly just to make their cleanup a little easier. Keith’s dick was painfully hard and had been oozing precum for a while. He swiped some off with a thumb and Keith choked down a sob. He held his thumb up and Keith obediently popped it in his mouth without a moment’s hesitation. 

Then Shiro gave him a few lazy strokes with the hand that was still slick from lube and Keith stuttered a gasp.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yesyesyes, _daddy_.”

“Beg for it.”

Keith didn’t need to be told twice. The permission looked like it was almost as much of a relief as actually coming would’ve been.

“Oh, _please_, daddy, I need your cock, please please please I need it so bad, you’re so sexy, I-I _need_ you, daddy…”

Shiro grinned, enjoying how undone Keith was. He was so beautiful like this, completely lust driven, practically blind with his own need.

He was still muttering a mantra consisting mostly of ‘please’ and ‘daddy’, when Shiro finally shifted them, lifting Keith by the hips and began lowering him onto his dick.

He did it slowly, partially for the sake of the situation, partially to ensure that he really didn’t hurt Keith by stretching him too fast.

In another situation Keith probably would’ve scoffed and just pushed himself down, uncaring of any consequences. But this Keith was a different creature entirely; he mewled pitifully as Shiro carefully lowered him, still muttering a constant stream of, “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

Once he was sitting, impaled on Shiro’s dick, quivering like a leaf, Shiro asked, “Are you okay, baby? Is it too much?”

He shook his head vehemently, “Feels so good, daddy, you’re so big, daddy…”

Feeling powerful and maybe a little experimental, Shiro gave his own love handle a pinch and said, “In more ways than one, right baby?”

As Shiro expected, Keith’s eyes went huge and he made a sound like he was gasping for air, transfixed by Shiro’s belly.

Encouraged, Shiro continued, “I’m getting pretty big, don’t you think, baby? _This_ is getting pretty big,” he said, giving his gut a slap, letting it wobble.

Keith whimpered, face flushing so red it was starting to creep down his neck. Eyes still entirely focused on Shiro’s belly, he slowly started to rock on Shiro’s dick, and Shiro grabbed his hips, stilling him.

“I didn’t say you could fuck yourself yet, baby.”

Keith choked on a desperate sound, and leaned forward to place his hands back on Shiro’s belly, massaging handfuls of fat needily.

“Mm, that feels good baby. Can’t believe I let myself go like this. I used to be so trim, remember?”

Keith’s eyes flitted up to Shiro’s, just for a moment, as he breathily answered, “Y-Yeah.”

“Not anymore, though. Now I’m getting _fat_.”

Maybe the loudest groan yet escaped Keith and he bit his lip right afterwards, trying to silence himself. His hands started to get more rough, pinching and prodding and jiggling handfuls of soft fat around Shiro’s torso.

“My appetite’s out of control. I eat so much, baby, all the time.”

“It’s s-so hot,” Keith muttered, muffling a cry when Shiro reached forward and gave Keith’s dick a few strokes, “Love how much you can eat, daddy, so sexy…”

“Just gonna keep getting fatter. Probably going to end up right back here in a few months. My belly’s just going to keep getting bigger and bigger…”

That seemed to really do it, Keith threw his head back with a desperate cry, begging, “Oh, please, daddy, can I _please_ fuck myself on your dick, I need it, I need it so bad, please, please-”

“Okay, baby, go ahead,” Shiro finally allowed. He was beginning to grow a little desperate himself.

Keith didn’t hesitate, bobbing up and down immediately and dirtily, moaning and gasping.

Keith made an obscene sight, so naked and flushed and desperate, movements frantic and needy, that Shiro knew he himself wasn’t going to last long. He leaned forward, jerking Keith off in earnest.

After a few minutes, Keith panted, “Ooh, daddy, I’m gonna-”

“Not yet.”

A cry of protest, a hitch in Keith’s rhythm as he tried desperately to obey without stopping. He was obviously so close to the edge and trying so hard to refrain from coming.

Shiro shifted Keith just slightly, aiming his own dick where he knew it would hit Keith’s prostate.

A few tears escaped Keith’s eyes as he kept his mouth shut from what would have been a loud moan of unadulterated pleasure and frustration.

Taking mercy on him a few moments later, Shiro finally allowed, “Okay, baby. Come for daddy.”

It was immediate, two more thrusts and Keith orgasamed, spilling his cum across Shiro’s belly. With a hand on Keith’s hip, Shiro thrusted into him just a few more times before he rode out his own white-hot orgasm.

Keith had gone completely limp and flush against him, uncaring about his own seed getting on his naked torso, breathing rapidly. Shiro pulled out of him slowly, receiving a slow whine from Keith who hardly moved otherwise, completely spent. It was a little tricky with a lapful of Keith, but he slipped his condom off and haphazardly wrapped it in some tissues that were on the table next to the chair to disguise it a little, before tossing it in the lined wastebasket that was under the table. 

Keith had rested his head on Shiro’s chest, and Shiro raised a lazy hand to card through his thick black hair. His breath was slowing and his hands wrapped around Shiro’s thick waist, holding him as close as he could.

Sometimes after sex like that it took Keith a while to get his wits about him. So they sat there for several minutes before Keith began to come back to life, shifting so he could blearily blink up at Shiro.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” Shiro whispered, hearing his own voice come out as a low rumble.

A languid grin came across Keith’s face, “Uh-huh.”

Shiro smiled back and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “You did so well, baby.”

Keith only hummed, blushing a little.

There were a few more beats of silence before Keith cleared his throat and said, “Um. So. I might have a weight gain kink.”

Shiro couldn’t help barking a laugh at that, “Gee, you think?”

Keith bashfully hid his head into Shiro’s chest but still snorted out a laugh and swatted him on his shoulder, “Ugh, shut up. I can’t help it, alright? You’re sexy.”

Shiro chuckled and pulled the box of tissues closer, “Here, we need to clean this up before it dries and we have to leave here feeling more gross than we already will.”

_This_ being the smeared mess of Keith’s cum now covering both their chests and stomachs. Keith wrinkled his nose and nodded in agreement.

They cleaned up as best they could, disposing of the suspicious amount of tissues into the waste bin. Shiro saw Keith hobble unsteadily, like a newborn foal, once he stood from Shiro’s lap, and Shiro cringed guiltily.

“I should’ve stretched you more. How sore are you?” In the moment he hadn’t regretted it, but now watching Keith wobble made him feel a little bad.

Keith scoffed and smiled fondly at Shiro, “I’m fine, Shiro. That was _great_.”

Shiro still frowned lightly, watching him gingerly slip his black jeans back on. Keith caught his look and rolled his eyes and sauntered back over to him, still shirtless. It was a decent saunter considering how sore he definitely was, even if he wasn’t going to admit it to Shiro. He reached out to palm Shiro’s belly, running his fingertips across the side of it soothingly. He stood up on his tippy toes to come closer to Shiro’s face when Shiro closed the distance by leaning down and capturing his lips in a chaste kiss.

When Keith pulled back, he was wearing a completely unapologetic smile, “Sorry for teasing you all day.”

Shiro chuckled and teased, “You don’t have to apologize, especially now that you’ve already gotten your comeuppance.”

Keith snorted and rolled his eyes, probably mostly from Shiro’s use of the word ‘comeuppance’. He liked to say Shiro talked like an old man. But all the same, he met Shiro’s eyes, looking soft and affectionate.

“I love you, Shiro,” he said quietly, eyes roaming Shiro’s face.

“Aw, baby. I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably worth mentioning that I have _no idea_ how appointments at tailors/custom clothiers work. So. I wrote what seemed like it could be right and what fit for what I wanted in the story ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

“Shiro, are you almost ready?” Keith called, entering the apartment from where he had smoked a quick bowl on the balcony. He went and peeked into the bathroom, where Shiro had been mussing with his hair and the small beard he had grown in the past few weeks. Keith had wanted to protest that the growth of a beard was only Shiro’s attempt to hide how his chin was prone to doubling as of late, because it definitely _was_, but Shiro with a beard was also about the hottest thing he had ever seen, so he had decided to let it slide.

Shiro was in the bathroom in his slacks and his button up, still missing his waistcoat, tie, and jacket, therefore very decidedly _not_ ready, which Keith was about to point out, before he noticed that Shiro’s eyes had been down and he was stepping off the bathroom scale, now looking Keith’s way guiltily.

The spark of arousal was immediate. Keith’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, his mouth open just barely, but unable to decide on what to say. How to _beg_ Shiro for the information he had just received from the scale.

Instead, Shiro eyed him and spoke an obvious deflection, “You look great, your suit came out well.”

Keith honestly agreed, and admitted to himself (not to Shiro, never to Shiro) that Shiro had a better eye for fashion and colors than him. His gray suit was a shade darker than the one he tried in store, per Keith’s request, and it really did look nice with the plum of his shirt. He also got a tie that incorporated both gray and plum, which had felt a little matchy-matchy to him, but Shiro insisted and it definitely worked. It fit him absolutely perfectly, and he had to admit, he looked more clean cut than he ever had before.

All the same, Shiro wasn’t going to distract him that easily.

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” Keith said, a whine easily creeping into his voice even though he tried to stop it. He stepped into the bathroom and hooked his slim fingers into the belt loops on Shiro’s trousers.

Shiro sighed and regarded his reflection, patting his belly on the crest a few times.

“I just-ugh,” he trailed off, and Keith pulled back to look at his face. His jaw was set but his eyes were unfocused.

Well shit. Keith felt his stomach sink. He had been assuming and hoping they were past most of Shiro’s body issues. Not even for selfish reasons (well, _mostly_ not for selfish reasons), but for the sake of Shiro’s own mental health.

“Hey. What’s wrong? You- I mean, you don’t have to tell me. If you’re, uh, not feeling great about it.”

Shiro looked down at him now, looking a little embarrassed and maybe a little conflicted as he said, “No, it’s more like...okay, so you like big guys, which includes fat guys. But I just...you’ve gotta have a limit right?”

“A limit?” Keith furrowed his brow, puzzled.

“Yeah. Like...of how big I can be and still, you know…” he trailed off, looking like he hated himself for even asking the question.

_And still turn you on_. Keith felt his heart drop, but refused to let his sadness show on his face. That would only make Shiro feel worse.

Instead he put on a grin, bringing his arms up so they were wrapped around Shiro’s waist. Not teasingly, or in a way that pointed out his weight, just an embrace.

“Shiro,” he chastised, “I’d find you attractive no matter what you weigh. I’m serious, okay? And, honestly? I think you’ll hit your limit, like, waaaaay before I hit mine. You could get so much bigger than you are now and I’d be completely okay with it.”

That made Shiro raise his eyebrows incredulously, “Really?”

Now Keith’s hands drifted to where Shiro’s rounded tummy was distended over his waistband, giving the flesh an affectionate squeeze.

“Really. I mean, seriously, have I _seemed_ less attracted to you lately?”

Keith was, frankly, insatiable. He had a high libido before Shiro but on weight, but now, he really just couldn’t get enough.

Shiro was smiling now, looking far more at ease as he teasingly waved his hand in the air, “You’re just needy, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Keith gaped and made an offended sound. He was about to say a snarky remark of his own when Shiro said, “258.”

That stopped Keith in his tracks. Suddenly the only sound he was able to produce was a choked, “_O-oh_.”

“I, ah, had to buy new jeans again this week, too. My _old_ new jeans are too tight again.”

“Uh huh,” Keith said, a prompt for Shiro to say more because god help him, was Keith hungry for it. He clung to Shiro, practically rutting against his thick thighs and hips.

“That’s more than sixty pounds up, by the way.”

Keith felt like he was going to vibrate out of his suit, “You have more than 100 pounds on me now.”

He ran his hands through Keith’s hair and gave him an appraising look, “Tiny little thing, aren’t you?”

The pointing out of their size difference would never _not_ get Keith going. He shuddered, and simultaneously Shiro wiggled out of his grasp to step out of the bathroom, saying, “I have to get ready, baby.”

Keith followed him like a puppy, pouting, “Aw, we really don’t have time for a little fun first?”

Shiro shrugged on his waistcoat while arching an eyebrow at Keith, “Not really. Besides, you’re already all dressed.”

Keith huffed and flopped into an armchair in their bedroom, watching with feigned boredom. Really, there was nothing boring about watching Shiro dress.

He wrapped a tie around his neck and gracefully tied a knot before he did up his waistcoat easily. Keith would’ve missed how tight his old suits were if Shiro didn’t look so fucking _sexy_ in his new ones. The waistcoat fit well but didn’t hide his protruding belly. Keith felt like it complimented it well, really; it instead subtly emphasized the shape and framed it. It had no right being as erotic as it was. He looked incredible.

“You look so hot,” Keith said as Shiro shrugged on his jacket and assessed his reflection in their bedroom mirror. He grinned, looking over his shoulder at Keith.

“C’mere, you,” he beckoned and Keith was on his feet practically before he finished speaking. Shiro pulled him into his chest, one hand on Keith’s back and the other on the back of his head, holding him in a firm, loving embrace. Keith hummed his contentment. No one gave hugs like Shiro, and they were even better now that he was bigger.

“I don’t want you to feel anxious about tonight, okay? Just stick with me, and we can leave whenever you want.”

Keith made a quiet noise in agreement. He really wasn’t looking forward to this, but he knew it meant a lot to Shiro. And Shiro had also promised him that there would be lots of food, and if Keith got bored, he was more than welcome to press more food onto Shiro. Admittedly, that gave him solace.

Wayford & Sons’ Christmas party this year was at a gorgeous hotel downtown. When they pulled up and Shiro paid the valet, Keith was already feeling anxious and out of place. But Shiro was at his side, a reassuring hand on his lower back as he guided him into the building.

As they made their way to the floor in which their party was being held, they walked past quite a few well-dressed individuals that were certainly of the same company, based on the way their eyes widened and polite but eager smiles immediately plastered onto their faces when they saw Shiro. It reminded Keith of the way someone might look at a celebrity, and Keith realized that it was because Shiro was so _powerful_. Surely, all he’d need to do is say the word for one of these underlings to be promoted, or fired. Shiro didn’t seem to notice at all, and that made it even more exciting. Suddenly Keith wasn’t as nervous anymore, now that he got confirmation of what he suspected all along; Shiro was practically _royalty_. Inadvertently, his back straightened and he held his head higher.

They found their floor and made a beeline for the bar, and while they were ordering, Keith jumped at the sudden bawdy jeering that erupted from a group that seemed to have spotted Shiro.

Given no one else until now had said anything but, “Good evening, Mr. Shirogane,” Keith figured these were Shiro’s fellow partners. They looked to be mostly around fifty or sixty, four men and their wives who looked exasperated at their rowdiness. They had already claimed a table and were waving obnoxiously, as if Shiro and Keith hadn’t seen them yet.

Shiro chuckled where he was standing next to Keith. The bartender handed them their drinks, and then they approached the table, Shiro giving Keith’s shoulder a subtle squeeze as comfort.

“There’s our guy!” One of the men said jovially, raising his glass in greeting. The rest of the men did the same, as did the women, looking a bit put out but smiling.

Shiro was grinning widely as he introduced Keith, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Keith.”

“The illusive Keith!” another man immediately proclaimed, standing and switching into an air of professionalism so quickly that it had Keith reeling as he offered his hand and said, “Gary Moss. It’s a pleasure.”

The rest of the men introduced themselves as increasingly generic middle-aged white man names. If Keith’s memory served, they were Mike, Scott and John, but god help him if he was ever going to have to tell them apart. They all had identical gray hair in extremely similar styles, around the same height, wearing similar suits, and sporting large, paunchy guts. Shiro stood out easily; Asian, at least 10 years younger than the next youngest, a head taller than then next tallest, and actually a good deal slimmer than the other men. Keith suspected none of them were below 300 pounds.

Keith was seated next to Scott’s (probably Scott at least?) wife Diane who surprisingly...was pretty amiable. Not even just friendly, like _Keith’s_ version of amiable.

“Finally got dragged into this shit, huh?” she said to him in a low voice so her husband on the other side of him wouldn’t overhear. She wasn’t a young bottle blonde like he had assumed; none of the wives were actually. She was of age with her husband, around fifty, and small statured. She had playful but sharp eyes that were fixed on Keith, like he was her new plaything.

The corner of Keith’s mouth quirked up, “Well, couldn’t be sick two years in a row, I guess.”

She grinned, and Keith figured he was on his way to making a new friend.

They hadn’t been sitting more than five minutes before the men were clamoring for food, rising from their chairs to peruse the appetizers that were around.

“Do you want to come?” Shiro whispered to Keith.

“I’m okay actually. Just make sure you get enough,” Keith said with a smile.

Shiro looked surprised but pleased as he nodded and walked away with his buddies.

“Thought they’d never leave,” Christy joked, and the rest of the women giggled.

“I’m going to kill John if he even touches those sausages. His cholesterol’s still bad, and he got such a migraine from them last year. I’m not listening to him bitch about it all night, I’m really not. I will go home,” Jen asserted, watching the group of men like a hawk where they were gathering food.

“Looks like Shiro has no such reservations,” Diane said with a smile, watching as Shiro did indeed put quite a few little sausages onto his plate. Her eyes flitted to Keith and her grin became devilish, “We usually spend this time ogling Shiro, sorry,” she said, mostly unapologetically.

“Back off, bitch,” came Keith’s easy reply. It was a joke, but there was a terrible beat of silence where he feared he was taken seriously, before the ladies erupted into laughter.

“Oh, you’re fun! I think we’ll get along just fine!” Amy said, holding her glass up in a wordless toast. They all did the same, and drank.

As the night went on, Keith got increasingly comfortable. He noticed their table got a lot of passing glances, probably because of the status of the people seated, and because of how loud they were being. Keith started to revel in it. It was kind of exciting. It felt like being at the cool kids’ table, and he was actually one of them.

Keith was unsurprised by the appetites of all the men, as they made several trips to the appetizers and came back with fully loaded plates, every time. A few of the women look chagrined, but Keith was beyond pleased.

Shiro’s first plate contained those sausages, puff pastries filled with cheeses and meats, mini spring rolls, potstickers, dates wrapped in bacon, and a few dinner rolls.

His next two plates contained similar variations, a few switched out for other dishes. Either way, they were all huge, heaping platefuls. Shiro’s coworkers were keeping pace and Keith watched with glee as they urged each other up to peruse the spread a fourth time.

Keith was familiar with Shiro’s limits, and didn’t think that he would be able to fit too much more in there and still eat the _real_ dinner once it was served. But all the same, he stood and went up with a smile on his face.

“I think our husbands have been a bad influence on Shiro,” Christy teased, eyeing the men as they walked up for even more food.

Keith couldn’t help smiling, “I wouldn’t say _bad_.”

“Ooh, it’s like that, is it?” Diane purred, eyes alight with interest.

Feeling surprisingly shameless, probably because during one of the men’s trips up, the women had discussed their own sex lives in more detail than he was really interested in, Keith shrugged and said, “I like my boys big.”

The women giggled and Amy raised her glass, “I hear that. To our boys getting too big for their britches,” she declared.

It was met with an equal amount of groans and laughs, but they all toasted and drank.

Shiro ended up eating _five plates_ worth of appetizers. Keith could hardly believe it, but he was finally beginning to understand why Shiro had put on so much weight in this position, as a partner. These guys seemed to goad each other on, as if eating and drinking absurd, gluttonous amounts was some measure of manliness, some kind of peacocking. Mike (probably Mike, at least) had tried to decline the fifth trip for food, but enough taunting and being called a “wuss” from the other guys got him on his feet.

Shiro hadn’t gotten through his fifth plate of appetizers when the first course was brought out; chickpea blini with lemon mousseline, topped with caviar.

Shiro kept a good pace, moving seamlessly once he finished his appetizers to the first dish, hardly breaking for air until they were both done. He leaned back in his chair and tugged at the hem of his waistcoat. The buttons weren’t straining, but his gut was certainly more visible, pressing insistently against its confines, looking round and thick. His face was flushed, and he was glassy eyed from the amount of food and liquor he had consumed at this point.

“You already look stuffed,” Keith said, hushed.

Shiro gave him a lopsided grin, “You haven’t seen anything yet. The guys and I aren’t nearly done. You might have to roll me out of here.”

A jolt of pure excitement down Keith’s spine. Keith was about to see firsthand what Shiro always said about work dinners; he always drank too much, which allegedly always makes him eat way too much. Shiro saw the look in his eyes and grinned confidently.

He’s seen Shiro drunk plenty, and could attest that it definitely makes him hungry, but this was already beyond that. Keith was witnessing the culmination of months of overeating to keep up with his buddies which turned into a habit, until he was overeating everywhere, all the time, and until his appetite had quadrupled in size.

Good lord, was that hot. Shiro the corporate fat cat, pushing past his limits at every meal. Keith was sweating.

The next course was brought out, a creamy harvest pumpkin soup. The men finished their petite bowls easily and were obviously ready for more.

The third course was a mushroom risotto over an herb coulis. Frankly, at the end of that course, Keith’s own meager appetite was sated. He’d have enough room to at least pick at the main course, but he would’ve been fine walking away at that point.

This course took the men a little more time, being larger and more filling, and they looked more satisfied at the end of it. Shiro was definitely looking full, pressing subtly into his belly, trying to find more room. His belly really looked big, too, bigger than ever before; it was wide and sat overtop his waistband, just recently beginning to sit atop his thighs. It rested more heavily there now, packed with food, and Keith suspected it was there to stay. 

Shiro ate bite after bite. He was like a machine, keeping a steady intake of food into that stuffed belly. Even intoxicated, he was proper enough that he dabbed his mouth every now and then, and the little burps that came with the territory when eating so much so fast were subtle, quiet, and always into his napkin. Such a gentleman, but such a glutton.

The fourth and main course was slow roasted duck with red grapefruit gastrique, red skinned potatoes and lemon butter asparagus. Keith feared the food would be bougie just for the sake of it, and lack any flavors Keith would appreciate. He was glad to know he was wrong, because everything he had tried was excellent, and this perhaps was the best yet.

The table seemed to agree, falling mostly silent as everyone ate their food.

Keith found himself far more full than usual as he cleaned his plate, palming his own bloated stomach. Yep, definitely a food baby.

Nothing like Shiro’s, though. It was becoming obvious that he was getting overfull. He kept fiddling with his waistcoat, as it was obviously restricting his belly from bloating outwards to what it otherwise would. Keith couldn’t see the shirt underneath through the buttons, but it looked like they were finally showing some strain, just beginning to pull at the buttons, barely noticeable.

He was breathing more heavily now, a true struggle beginning. Keith was surprised and impressed that it had taken this long. His brow was pinched in discomfort and he was flushed, shifting every so often as if he’d find a more comfortable position. If they were at home, Keith might’ve taken the fork from him and fed Shiro himself. Or maybe he would’ve leaned over, undone those buttons and watch his gut roll outwards, before giving him a belly rub.

Shiro was nearly done with the course, but the other men had already cleaned their plates. Mike (probably Mike at least, and actually associating them with their wives was making it easier on Keith) couldn’t help but comment.

“Doing alright over there, Shiro?” he said, smirk on his face.

“Just fine, thanks,” Shiro responded, sounding testy only to appeal to the audience. As expected, chuckles around the table.

“Leave him be, Mike,” Christy said to her husband, “Lord knows he’s newer to stuffing himself silly than you monsters.”

“He ain’t _that_ new!” John declared, gesturing to Shiro’s gut, and the table laughed again.

The fifth and final course was dessert, and waitstaff came around placing large plates in front of everyone, a generous sampler that had a small square slice of tiramisu, a mini ramekin of crème brûlée, a small strawberry rhubarb tart, and a petite piece of chocolate bourbon cake. While each individual treat was relatively small, together they amounted to far more than just a single piece of cake. It was far too much dessert for a reasonable person, and obviously in an attempt to ensure everyone would have something that suited their pallet. The other courses all had vegetarian and gluten free options, dessert being the only exception, and this seemed to be their solution.

Keith had gone to the bathroom just before this course, and took some sneaky hits from the dab pen he had slipped into one of the pockets of his suit to refresh his high that had all but worn off. What he didn’t count on was the munchies. He was now high enough that while he remembered how full he was, he didn’t particularly _care_, because all four desserts now looked far too delicious to pass up.

The table collectively got to work on their desserts. Keith was beyond pleased with the spread; it was exactly the sort of food that would give him the munchies just _looking_ at in a high state like this: sweets. He couldn’t resist. He didn’t try to.

All of the men - this time, Keith included - finished all of their dessert.

Now it was Keith’s turn to burp primly and softly into his napkin. Fuck, he had eaten too much. Way too much. Shiro glanced at Keith’s empty plate and looked up at him with surprise, then a mischievous glint entered his eyes. Keith suspected Shiro now knew exactly what he had been doing in the bathroom. Shiro could almost always tell when Keith had smoked, even when he thought he was being sly.

Shiro was in high spirits considering he looked like he had swallowed a bowling ball. Now that the food was done, he leaned back in his chair, and his belly mounded up in front of him. The reclined position offered his gut a little more room, but even so, the bottom of it still brushed the tops of Shiro’s thighs. He must’ve still been hurting, but it seemed like the alcohol was doing him some favors for now. He was flushed and glassy eyed, laughing heartily at something one of his friends said. Keith didn’t catch it, but still he smiled, pleased Shiro was having a good time.

Eventually, all the plates were cleaned up and the music got turned up a little louder, and some dancing and more schmoozing began. Keith watched with hungry eyes when Shiro finally stood up, belly completely round and overfed, still straining the buttons of his waistcoat insistently.

If he wasn’t so fucking stuffed himself, Keith might’ve suggested they dance a little, but Shiro probably wouldn’t have been up for that either. Instead, Keith followed Shiro around like a puppy dog as he went and chatted up some of his other associates. The weed eased Keith’s anxieties enough that he didn’t even mind following him around and shaking some hands in polite introductions.

Shiro was amidst a conversation with some VP when Keith heard his name in a loud whisper, “Keith!”

He glanced over his shoulder, certain that the voice was looking for some executive that also happened to be named Keith, when he spotted his new lady friends. They were peeking out from behind a door, gesturing excitedly for him to follow them.

Keith glanced back to Shiro, and seeing he looked completely occupied, Keith slipped away from the conversation and followed the ladies out the door.

They were giggling and whispering as they began walking down increasingly unpopulated areas. Keith wasn’t sure they were in the area the company had rented for the party anymore.

“Where are we going?” Keith eventually asked.

Amy looked over her shoulder at him, “The balcony! Wayford always has their Holiday party here, so we’ve figured out some little secrets over the years. They lock the doors from our event room, because they don’t actually want anyone out there, but we always sneak in through the doors on the other side,” she said with a wink.

The balcony was surprisingly spacious, and was more like an empty rooftop for the floors below than an actual balcony. It spanned from the East to the North wings of the hotel, and was indeed completely empty. Flashing lights were on the East side, where the party was taking place. There was a low wall along the edge of the balcony and they walked over and took a deep breath of fresh air, still chittering and giggling all the while. Keith was much more comfortable out here, looking down and watching all the lights of the city, and getting some good gossip from his new friends.

Diane produced a bottle of vodka from god knows where, the women immediately sipping straight from the bottle. Keith slipped a little plastic tube out of a suit pocket. He wasn’t sure if he’d find an opportunity to smoke the joint he had rolled within, and was glad for it. He attracted their eyes with the spark wheel of his lighter, took a long hit, before offering the joint to Jen, who was standing closest to him.

Her eyes lit up when the smell hit her, and she took the joint with an eager grin, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Is this really that surprising?” he deadpanned. Keith knew what he looked like. The women laughed.

Keith wasn’t sure how long they were out there. He limited his alcohol intake, having no desires or intentions to get crossed, but still, time was getting a little fuzzy. He would’ve believed it had been 15 minutes. He also would’ve believed it had been an hour.

Eventually they sat down, on the ground, since there were no benches or furniture to speak of. They really probably weren’t supposed to be out here, but second to watching Shiro eat dinner, this was the most fun he’d had all evening. They passed the bottle of vodka and Keith’s joint around until the joint became a roach and the women decided not to drink more, lest they be unable to get up.

While they were out there, spirits were high and laughs were loud. Verging on hysterical at times thanks to the alcohol and weed. Keith was surprised how happy he felt to be welcomed with such open arms into their little circle. They really were fun, and seemed to actually like Keith. It was nice to know he’d have friends to be with if he went to other work events with Shiro.

Eventually they stumbled back into the party, significantly more inebriated than before. The women were particularly drunk but seemed to find their husbands with relative ease. It wasn’t hard to find Shiro, who was one of the tallest people in the room.

Keith was relieved to see he wasn’t amidst conversation, but was rather in front of a dessert bar, helping himself to _even more food_. 

Keith slipped to his side and under his arm easily, right as Shiro took a big bite out of a brownie.

“There you are!” he said, a little garbled as he chewed at the same time. He wrapped an arm around Keith to hold him closer, “I was getting worried. I was going to text you soon”

“Sorry. I went with the ladies to the balcony.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he looked pleased as he took another bite and said, “I’m glad you’ve made some new friends.”

“They’re nice. And funny. And I cannot believe you’re still eating,” Keith said, awed. His hand traveled to Shiro’s belly, as subtly as he could which probably wasn’t very, pressing in and finding very little give.

In evidence to how full he really was, the simple touch made him flinch and groan, as he finished off his brownie regardless, “Well, I didn’t know where you were, so I stress ate.”

Keith pouted, “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. But also, I don’t think you can blame all this on me.” He pressed into Shiro’s belly again, but in a more soothing gesture, a caress to the crest of his belly with just enough pressure to soothe.

Shiro sagged under his touch and hummed quietly, “Are you just about ready to head to the room for the night?”

They had decided earlier to a room at the hotel rather than drive back to the apartment, knowing they’d both likely be too intoxicated to drive. Keith nodded.

They said good-byes to the partners and their wives, received a few disappointed ‘you’re going already?’s that Keith was familiar with, because he left early to almost any social event ever, even though it was well after midnight already.

They got to their luxurious hotel room and shucked off their suit jackets and ties. Keith was at Shiro’s hip in a heartbeat, unbuttoning his waistcoat and watching with glee as it expanded more and more with each undone button.

“Shouldn’t’ve worn a three piece suit tonight,” Shiro whined, “It’s fucking _tight_.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat so much,” Keith marveled, moving the sides of the now unbuttoned waistcoat aside so he could get to the prize: that deliciously bloated belly. It was distended and wide, warm underneath Keith’s fingertips.

Shiro seemed to be interested in moving a bit faster. They had discussed this earlier and already given consent for the evening, knowing they’d probably end up exactly here. Shiro was unbuttoning Keith’s shirt already. He fumbled around Keith’s waistband, accidentally pressing into Keith’s stomach in a way that would normally feel like nothing at all, but he had almost forgotten that he, too, was stuffed to his own personal brim. Keith hissed, drawing back instinctually.

Shiro froze, eyes going wide with alarm, “I- did I hurt you, baby?”

Keith stepped back into Shiro’s space and pressed a kiss to his lips, “Hey, don’t worry, I’m fine. Just, ugh, ate too much at dinner.”

Something changed in Shiro’s eyes, “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He scooped Keith up and placed him gingerly on the bed. He had already gotten Keith’s shirt off, and now straddled him and slipped his trousers off his skinny legs.

Shiro paused above him, making Keith squirm, feeling exposed. Shiro was still in his button up and pants. His eyes raked over Keith’s body, but seemed particularly attached to his middle, which was so full that it still bowed upwards.

Shiro ran his large hand over the curve, humming with sympathy. He leaned in to press kisses to his stomach, then along the waistband of his boxers, ignoring Keith’s dick where it was straining upwards insistently.

“I’m glad you liked the food. I like it when you eat well,” he purred almost absently, and Keith squirmed, blushing. He was surprised at how comforting Shiro’s hands and lips felt on his painfully taut belly, but still felt a little bashful. Something unidentifiable was curling in Keith’s stomach, too, from Shiro’s actions, some feeling that he couldn’t quite place.

When it had been a while and Shiro hadn’t moved on, Keith finally complained, whiny, “Daddy, please…” He was fairly sure he was beet red by now.

Shiro blinked up at him, like he had just lost track of time. He pressed another kiss to the crest of Keith’s bloated belly before moving up to capture Keith’s lips hotly.

Keith’s hands reached up to begin undoing the buttons to Shiro’s shirt, hands latching onto his hanging gut the moment it was exposed. Lord, it looked big. Shiro sat back on his haunches to slip the shirt off his arms and shoulders, and Keith saw the way it rounded out over Shiro’s waistband, obscuring his belt buckle. Keith reached his hand out to run his hands over it, where that jiggly lower belly, covered with a spattering of hair, rested comfortably. Keith loved that Shiro was big enough now that he still jiggled, even when he was so achingly full. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He moved the flesh around in his hands, jiggling, squeezing and shaking it.

Something caught his eyes though, as he reached under Shiro’s gut to remove his belt and undo his pants. Shiro let him, hands falling to the side and a lazy grin on his face. It was hard to tell with the moderate amount of hair that was on Shiro’s belly, particularly his lower belly where it was a bit more dense, but there were little red marks decorating the skin there. Keith had seen them before and assumed they were a trick of the light, or marks from Shiro’s clothes being too tight. But they were in the exact same spot every time Shiro took his shirt off. Keith was pretty sure now that they were stretch marks.

The realization had him ripping Shiro’s pants off in a furious haste, and Shiro only chuckled. Keith wondered if Shiro had noticed himself and decided to bring it up later.

“So hot, daddy,” Keith heard himself mutter once Shiro was naked and pushing Keith back against the bed again, “So _big_.”

Shiro pressed his body against Keith’s and relaxed there, letting him _feel_ how heavy Shiro was. Keith threw his head back with a groan. He was reminded that Shiro was over _100 pounds_ heavier than him. Shiro ground their hips together, letting his bare dick move against Keith’s clothed one, naked save for his boxer briefs. Keith made a choked sound, already feeling too overstimulated to form real words besides a breathy, “Daddy…”

“Relax baby,” Shiro cooed, slipping Keith’s boxers down. The words were effective as always, and Keith felt himself calm marginally, although he remained rock hard and aching.

He barely heard it when Shiro murmured, “I’ll always take care of you.”

_

They were barely awake afterwards, panting and sprawled on one another. Keith had his eyes closed, and Shiro believed him asleep until his phone went off on the bedside table. Keith blearily opened his eyes and pulled off Shiro’s chest with an unhappy grumble.

Keith began texting someone back, and Shiro couldn’t help but be curious, since it was almost 2 a.m.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Diane.”

Shiro racked his brain for a second. He didn’t think he ever remembered Keith mentioning a friend named Diane. Then it hit him.

“_Scott’s_ Diane?”

“Yeah, are we free the 18th? She’s hosting a dinner party, wants to know if we can make it.”

Shiro couldn’t mask his surprise as he said, “Uh, sure, I think we’re free. I’m surprised you want to go.”

Keith shrugged, sending another quick text before snuggling back into Shiro, “I had fun tonight.”

Shiro smiled to himself. He was beyond pleased. He had been so concerned that Keith would feel like an outsider and not want to go to any work events after this. That would’ve been okay, but he was glad it obviously wasn’t the case. He was grateful to the women for welcoming him so easily.

Keith’s hands trailed down to cradle Shiro’s belly. It was still uncomfortably stuffed, so much so that he’d probably still be feeling it come morning. But he had promised Keith that they’d get brunch before they left the downtown area tomorrow, so hopefully he’d have room. Then self-awareness kicked in and Shiro almost had to laugh at himself as he thought, _Since when did having room ever stop you from eating?_

Keith’s hand kept lazily making circles in Shiro’s belly and Shiro felt himself grow exponentially more calm, happy and sleepy. He had begun to _love_ belly rubs, particularly when he was so full. On days he found himself beyond full, like now, he found he always ended up flopping onto the bed, just like he was now, spread eagle on his back with his belly rounded up into the air. 

It was like a beacon to Keith, who was always there instantly. Sometimes he was mouthy, talking about how much Shiro ate, how big and sexy he was, going on and on to catalogue his increasing size. Sometimes he was just _soft_, curling into Shiro, kissing along his jaw and neck, saying little more than whispered, ‘I love you’s. 

One thing was always the same, and it was the extreme relief and warm intimacy of Keith’s belly rubs. Keith had teased once that when he was stuffed he was like a dog, rolling around on his back and begging for belly rubs. Shiro couldn’t deny the accuracy, because here he was, stuffed to the brim and begging for post-sex belly rubs without even realizing it until he felt Keith’s fingers graze through the spattering of hair on his gut.

He looked down at Keith who had curled back into his chest. His hand movements on Shiro’s stomach were slowing, a sure sign he was drifting to sleep. Even in the dark, Shiro could see his eyes were closed.

He could also see where Keith’s own pitifully bloated tummy was resting against Shiro’s hip. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest. Lord, was he precious. Shiro had meant what he said; Keith could be such a finicky eater that seeing him eat well was…

Comforting? That was the word his brain wanted to use, but his dick was insisting _hot_ was better.

He shook his head. Keith was rubbing off on him, clearly.

Now Keith had stilled completely and his breathing grew deeper. Shiro brushed a hand through his hair affectionately, knowing it wouldn’t wake him. Sure enough, he didn’t move an inch.

Shiro’s head was beginning to ache, _already_, which was not a good sign. Maybe a mimosa at brunch would help. Hair of the dog and all that.

Shiro drifted to sleep easily, his thoughts absently mulling over what he would order at brunch come morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated as always <3
> 
> Follow me on [ tumblr ](https://akranes-jlc.tumblr.com)!


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